


finding the light

by linabauer



Series: shine, dream, smile, oh let us light up the night [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, Gen, Natasha Romanov Joins SHIELD, SHIELD Family, pre-SHIELD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:47:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 31,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24163066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linabauer/pseuds/linabauer
Summary: "Pull the trigger, Clinton. I dare you," Natalia smirks, but her green eyes hold nothing but emptiness and weariness.-Natalia rebuilds as Natasha. She's done this millions of times, this one won't be any different, would it?-A to Z of Natalia's rebirth
Relationships: Maria Hill/Natasha Romanov
Series: shine, dream, smile, oh let us light up the night [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1716211
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

2005, date redacted

Natalia silently pours the liquid through the halls of the Red Room. Most of the girls were away on a mission, or the ones who weren't were gathered in the courtyard. The explosion would not kill them, the fire might, but they would run out and survive before they died.

Natalia wipes her hands, dirty, full of ghosts of her past, on her neat pinafore and pushes her hair out of her eyes. First defiance, not tying her hair up.

Natalia slips out into the night through the trick window near the cellars.

Natalia takes a match, lights it, and tosses it to the first trail of the gasoline.

Natalia turns and runs into the forest.

Exactly 60 seconds later, the clearing erupts into flames and light and there's screams and alarms.

Natalia watches the building, demolished, bodies buried under the wreckage, and disappears into the shadows again.

2005, date redacted

Natalia uses her connections to get her to places. People don't know she isn't with Red Room anymore. 

Natalia sets up her own profile, but she doesn't need to. She's the Black Widow of legends, and she's well known.

Natalia plans for her next mission, to take down Red Room. Her solution is temporary, but its better than nothing.

Natalia fingers her blood red hair. Red, like her dripping ledger.

Natalia raises the scissors and begins to remake her new life.

2005, date redacted

She found a book called the ABC Murders or something like that. It was quite interesting how normal people perceived murders and assasinations.

She decides to have a little fun. She'll begin her missions, but in alphabetical order.

First, Afghanistan. She's heard that there's a drug den there, with Red Room ties.

2005, date redacted

The US Marines were here too. Made her mission harder, but she'd manage.

Natalia observes as the Marines' mission goes FUBAR really quickly. She would do clean up, it seems. They wouldn't kill the drug den overlord, Alfonso Murray, the Marines lived by a code Natalia had seen and done too much to have.

The team of six, four males and two females, were meant to incapacitate Alfonso. Alfonso, however, had been tipped of by someone, and had been ready.

Three in the team are dead, Natalia sees their bodies lying broken and twisted, like fallen angels, under the jeep.

They had dropped a bomb right into the jeep, one female and one male only surviving because they had got out to tail before they jeep reached the destination, and another male who was going to die soon. Blood loss worked fast, lose 0.53 gallons of blood and you were dead.

The male, Jim Talsky, and the female, Maria Hill, looked shocked but determined. 

Natalia watches in mild fascination as their expressions go from grief, to acceptance, to anger.

Natalia watches as they battle through, but still managed to not kill anyone. 

Another grenade was dropped right in front of Jim Talsky. He had no time to do anything than send Maria Hill an apologetic look before he was impaled with shrapnel and died.

Natalia had watched as Hill screamed and yet soldiered on.

This was clearly a team, a unit, one that trusted each other. It was a foreign concept, Natalia had never trusted anyone but herself, and sometimes she didn't even trust herself, her mind.

Hill looked devastated. Natalia emerges from the shadows, feeling out, coming out from the shadows to complete her mission objective.

Natalia leaves the guards to Hill, she seemed competent enough to deal with them. Besides, revenge was a girl's best friend.

Natalia daintily steps over the dead guard she just killed and into Alfonso's room.

Alfonso takes one look at the red hair, green eyes shining with cruelty and barely repressed murderous calm, the knives Natalia had unsheathed, and spills everything.

Once Natalia finished toying with him, Natalia shoots him and melts back into the shadows again.

Hill breaks into the room a few seconds later.

Natalia was curious, but she sees another car drive up. It's S.H.I.E.L.D.

Natalia leaves.


	2. Chapter 2

2005, date redacted

Next, Bangladesh. It would take 10 hours if she were flying commercial and was being careful. She'd fly to Kolkata and then take a train and a bus to whatever motel she could find.

Natalia curls her red hair and puts in blue contacts. She cleans up the hotel room, making sure to not leave any traces. A ghost, like she was never here.

A wind up doll, pretty ballerina, innocent angel behind a mask.

Natalia takes her new passport, she had it made a few weeks ago on some mission and had hidden it in one of her safehouses. She'd have to make a new one soon, or dig up some of her old ones. Contrary to belief, spies did not have passports all together in one convenient place just lying around for grabs. Espionage was intricate, an art form of its own. And Natalia was a master of the art.

Natalia removes her surgical gloves after re-wiring the camera feed in the hallways and disappears.

2005, date redacted

Natalia gets her way pretending to be a girlfriend of someone, here for visit. The locals don't question who, its a messy place, especially where Natalia currently resided. It was shady, the customer service was eyeing her with suspicion and probably was going to try to rob her in the middle of the night (it happened before, Natalia had sent the robber off with a minor concussion and a few good slices to the abdomen), and Natalia chews on her prata as she starts her work.

Espionage was not as glamorous as people seemed to believe. It took a lot of careful consideration, 24/7 work and slight pulling or weaving of threads to form a tangible mission plan.

Huh, she was speaking like she was a spider now. Interesting development, she'd have to do a self-psychological evaluation soon. She would not compromise herself. Black Widow had many enemies, now Red Room was onto her too. Soon, she'd have the world ready to engage on a manhunt for her. Countries, governments, intelligence organisations, self-serving bastards, other assassin for hire competitors, she had indeed many enemies. She'd have to finish off this mission and lie low for a month. Then, move on.

Natalia's fingers fly over the tablet she had nicked from some store earlier. She'd return it soon, don't worry. Natalia didn't often borrow without permission.

She needed to hack into S.H.I.E.L.D. database, needed to find out what the senior agent was doing on site. Did they receive a tip-off from someone that she would be there? Did they also need Alfonso Murray? Did they want to interrogate someone? Speak with any of the Marines? Or were they just there to check in the damage, maybe Alfonso had been part of some other plot and S.H.I.E.L.D. was chasing the lead.

So many possible threads to pull.

Natalia smirks as she manages to hack through the firewalls and layers of security. 

5 minutes. S.H.I.E.L.D. security was pretty impressive. 

No worries, she'd had worse.

Natalia finds the file on the senior agent. Phillip J. Coulson, security level 10, files heavily redacted. That would take some time to reassemble. Luckily, Natalia had time. Her mission only begun in three days. Her informant would only be here from Kolkata in two days. His name was Baban, he was Bengali. On the run from the government for being part of an execution of a few officials. 

Natalia met him a few years back. She dropped him some information and now Baban owes her.

Baban, thankfully, was a man of his word, so rare these days. Still, Natalia could not drop her guard.

Natalia makes a copy of the files and begins to read through mission reports under him, which was a lot actually.

2005, date redacted

Baban told her about Ross and his undergoing experiments underground. Ross was a no good idiot with a hunger, no, a craving for power over the world. No better than a rat.

He even looked like one.

Natalia absorbs all this information. Baban says he is planning to go back to Nepal, set up a new place there. 

Baban wanted a partnership, it seemed.

Natalia asked him why.

Baban said that they were both alone in this world. That they could help each other, and together, they could go on and overthrow Ross, bring down America, bring down more countries.

Natalia gives an incredulous look before shooting him.

He's dead before he could blink.

Baban was a good man, or as good as someone like him could get.

Natalia knew Baban would sell him out to the Nepali government the second they touched down. Natalia had tapped into his calls recently.

Natalia leaves Baban in his chair as Natalia gets up and leaves.

The slug was not Soviet made, she would be untraceable.

As she always was, always had been.


	3. Chapter 3

2005, date redacted

Natalia was now in China. Specifically, 常州, southern province of 江苏。(Changzhou) (Jiangsu)

Natalia had never been to many Asian countries when with Red Room, she'd take this time to experience it. Besides, it was convenient and she didn't have to waste too much money going from one side of the globe to another.

She booked a motel and had finished securing the place. Natalia decides to go explore the place, find some good food perhaps.

Natalia found a small shop that sold dumplings and noodles. The food was good, Natalia had cursed herself for not being able to use chopsticks. She had to blend in, damn it. Although with her looks and all she clearly was not a local. She had put on a wig, used makeup to manipulate her facial features into a more Asian like style though.

But the chopsticks, it gave her away. Stupid, stupid stupid. 

Natalia needed to remember that she had no more safety net unlike in the Red Room. Once she was dead, it would be game over. If S.H.I.E.L.D. came blazing in with five STRIKE Teams and guns, she would be detained immediately, maybe not without harm, but still.

At least she chose a place that wasn't too crowded. It was around 3, hence the lack of people.

Natalia adds "learning how to use chopsticks" and "learning proper Mandarin" to her list.

2005, date redacted

Natalia manages to piece the first page of Coulson's file together. The necessary details, the most vital ones.

She needed to see him in real life to make an actual deduction though, right now she was just assuming.

There could be no failures in her line of work, she did not fail, and assuming is the quickest way to die. Like the first step into quicksand.

Natalia needed information. She knew how to get it, but first, the mission she was already in. 

Always the mission, remember your rules Natalia. 

Natalia unconsciously presses down on her abdomen. The mark of the Red Room. A small scar under her left breast.

Black Widow is claimed by the Red Room. It is their branding, their insignia. 

_A hot poker that burned bright orange and yellow and white. Muffled screaming, pain lancing through her, seeing stars._

Natalia lifts her hand from the mark.

She's going to need her handcuffs to sleep today, she knew.

It was stupid, but she knew how to get out of them if attacked. Her entire life has been the Red Room, she's been chained and beaten and remade and shaped like clay her whole life. She is who she is today because of Red Room and her own faults. 

But its all she's known, and there is nowhere else to hide but the shadows.

2005, date redacted

Natalia aligns her shot and waits patiently.

Just like James once taught her to.

James, how is he? Probably back with HYDRA.

Natalia's actions would have repercussions, she knew. But she was, finally, free from Red Room.

As she pressed the trigger, watched the man go down, as she disappeared again, she thinks if this is what freedom truly is, then its just an illusion.


	4. Chapter 4

2005, date redacted

Number 4, Denmark.

There's a Red Room facility there, Natalia needed to take it down.

Natalia finishes up her re-assembling of Coulson's dossier. He's a good spy, an agent loyal to S.H.I.E.L.D. 

Turns out he's actually a Level 8 agent, but it might be just something to throw any hacker off the scent.

Expert Marksman, spy, tactician, interrogator, martial artist, impressive resume. He was the handler of Clinton Francis Barton, someone Natalia had heard of, but only in passing. She needed to do more research.

Natalia destroys the SIM Card of the tablet and inserts another new one. They cost quite a bit, but she'd been using Red Room and HYDRA funds, including a few private ones. 

For the rich and for the poor, or something like that, right?

Natalia licks her dry lips and suits up.

2005, date redacted

Natalia winces as she prods at a limp body. Ah well, what was done was done.

She's going to retrieve all the files before burning this place to the ground.

It was kind of spiteful, but the Red Room burnt down her house years ago, took her, used her, tried to break her, force her pieces into a marionette.

She is the Black Widow, she would not break, she would not yield, she would not falter.

But yeah, it was personal.

Natalia smiles viciously as she flings a knife into a remaining handler's hand as he screams.

There's soft footsteps and Natalia trains her gun to the doorway.

It's a young girl, about 8. Blonde. 

Natalia observes her, she's not quite a threat, give her another few years and she'll probably be really good.

But killing a girl, no matter how much of a weapon she was? Natalia would not, could not, cross that line.

"девочка, запустить." Natalia says. The girl widens her eyes and runs. Smart girl. (Girl, run)

Natalia gives her no more than two minutes before she plants the explosives, runs out, avoiding the rooms where the girls would be, and presses down on the trigger as the part of the building blows up.

2005, date redacted

Natalia sighs as she bites down on the thread to stitch up the minor knife wound. It would heal in about three days.

She takes a swig of vodka as she works in silence on the wound.

Once she's done, she cuts away the excess and throws it away, watches it flutter slowly into the trash can.

Natalia gets her tablet and finds Barton's file. He may be a link to why Coulson was on site. She had to make sure no one saw her.

Clinton Francis Barton, born June 18 1982, went from one foster care home to another, joined a circus and learned how to shoot, how to blend in, how to pick someone's pocket while slipping through crowds. Defected to S.H.I.E.L.D. in 2003 after he realised the circus was actually a mafia gang.

Expert marksman, spy, martial artist, gymnast dexterity, always accurate, prefers bows over guns. He's the enemy, Natalia.

Natalia pulls up a few clips of him fighting.

Pretty impressive, she had to admit.

Natalia flicks through some files. She's got a whole archive to explore.

Luckily, she would be lying low for some time. Her missions were bound to draw attention, she had to hide and re-emerge a bit later.

There's one that catches her eye. Maria Christina Hill. Huh, perhaps Coulson had been there to recruit Hill. 

Natalia stares at the blue, ocean-like eyes. Intoxicating, captivating, beautiful. Hiding the deadliness that certainly came with her, if a senior S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent came to recruit her. From what she deduced, usually Level 4 agents were sent for recruitment.

Natalia tears her eyes away from the slightly scowling woman in the picture, from the brown hair tightly pulled back in a military style bun.

Natalia flicks through the background part. Abusive childhood, single father, mother died during childbirth, stellar grades in school, didn't do homework but excelled in examinations, liked a ton of sports, learnt about satellite spy programs when she was 11. Impressive. 

Someone to look out for. Worthy opponent. Did Hill fight like her, fluid, agile, deceptively small, or did she fight with strength, with dexterity, with honed muscles and a sharp edge?

Natalia found herself wandering off into her train of thoughts. 

Natalia was curious, and she wanted answers.

Soon. She had a few missions to go on before she'd begin on S.H.I.E.L.D.

Time to move on to the next country, where she would just lay low and make a new cover in case.


	5. Chapter 5

2005, date redacted

Next, East Timor, also known as Timor-Leste.

Natalia wanted a vacation, this would be it. Beaches, hot weather, completely unlike Russia. 

Natalia slathers a liberal amount of sun lotion on her skin. She hated getting tan.

No matter that the tan would be shed in a few days, at most a week. It just reminded her of everything, of the Red Room, of what monster truly writhed under her skin.

No grim thoughts Natalia. It's time to reset, rewind, get into the mindset.

Natalia plasters on her best smile and wraps the bathrobe around her as she heads down from the resort to the beach.

Natalia grips her bag tighter.

2005, date redacted

Natalia scrolls on her tablet, visiting files and missions.

So organised.

Unlike her own mind. A patchwork of scars and memories. Burnt, reduced to ashes.

Natalia purses her lips. Now is not the time. Now is the time to relax, or as much as she could.

Natalia knew there were a few men eyeing her, she could feel their gazes on her skin, making her want to squirm with discomfort. 

Men, disgusting.

Natalia opens the more recent missions.

Hill was in one of them.

Natalia scrolls through it. Latest mission, Finland. Gone FUBAR, currently missing members of STRIKE Team Alpha include Brock Rumlow, Maria Hill, Sharon Carter, Vera Gomez and Fish Walter.

Finland. Natalia reviews all her destinations mentally.

Huh, luckily Finland was one of them. There was a government official with ties to HYDRA that was arriving in two weeks. She needed to eliminate the target. HYDRA would kidnap the real one and replace him with a doppelganger who would blow up the building, along with the school nearby. Natalia had no qualms about finishing the mission, but after Sao Paulo, Drakov's daughter, she would not harm children.

She had a dripping ledger, she didn't want to taint it further. A child's life equates ten, twenty, thirty human lives.

No matter how corrupted a child could become, like her. Poisoned by Red Room. 

But she was born to be the Black Widow, so it was really just a matter of time before she did become tainted. One way or another, death always came to collect its debts.

There's rumours that the Black Widow sold her soul to the devil. That she was the devil. Natalia had moulded herself to fit the legends and rumours.

The name brought fear, brought pleading, brought havoc and bloodshed and ruins.

Phoenixes rise from the ashes, a Black Widow rises from horrors and destructions.

Natalia reviews the file, carefully remember all the details, before packing up and preparing to head to Finland and cut her vacation short.


	6. Chapter 6

2005, date redacted

After a lot of research and careful planning, Natalia had a plausible way in.

The five were currently held in a base underground, in some remote abandoned village safehouse/warehouse. The target, called himself the Night's Blade, was holding them hostage because of their recent break-in to one of his places.

He had no alliances, he was one of the 'S.H.I.E.L.D. or some other organisation murdered my parents so I'm mad and going to take revenge'.

He was, however, an excellent combatant, she had seen him in action. Natalia would need to be careful. His downfall would be his pride. He would relax for some time after he had completed a part of his mission. Not for long, but long enough to expose weaknesses.

Natalia would only carry out the plan if S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't able to find the team in five days max. Natalia did not want to be discovered, it would compromise her greatly. 

Natalia leaped from the windowsill of the small house opposite the targeted site and leaves.

2005, date redacted

Five days was up, yet Natalia was hesitant to go rescue the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.

Actually, she didn't even know why she wanted to save them in the first place. She had so much potential, she was most definitely on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s hitlist, as well as CIA, Interpol, Pentagon, FBI, intelligence agencies of tens and hundreds of countries. She's an internationally known assassin, but only mentioned and passed on in whispers for fear.

No one besides Red Room had concrete evidence of her existence. She's a myth, her story is one that used to be told to young children.

When had it become so bloody and twisted?

When had her life become this odd and unsettling?

Natalia toys with the tablet as she debates.

No, she would not go visit them. But, she could send an anonymous tip-off to the media. Local media, of course, but it would definitely reach S.H.I.E.L.D.

It had to be something preposterous, yet something news worthy. Ah, alien conspiracy theory, perhaps linked to Area 51. She could claim that there was activity in the area around the safehouse, that she had heard sounds and seen lights. Good enough, the media would swallow that up.

Natalia composes her story and sends it.

2005, date redacted

Natalia watches as the members of the STRIKE Team come out from the safehouse and get in the car. Walters looked tired, Carter was sporting a spectacular black eye, probably from when she got a jab to the eye by Night's Blade, the other two looked fine, and Hill was-

Natalia silently and slowly slid down.

Hill had somehow sensed her, or some wild animal.

"Hill?" Coulson asks, following her direction.

Hill squints. 

"It's nothing, thought I saw something. Probably just the tiredness and paranoia, comes in spades," Hill, thankfully, turns around and gets in.

Stupid mistake, Natalia, in her observing of Hill, had forgotten about the angle she needed to maintain to remain unseen. Stupid mistakes are weaknesses, Natalia. Weaknesses get you killed. 

She needed to clear her mind. She needed to be on top of her game. Perhaps the mission would help, taking out the doppelganger.

2005, date redacted

The mission helped, to some extent. She's going to lie low again, get off the shadow grid. Natalia was rarely seen, but after Hill and Night's Blade, she was taking no chances. She had took to wearing wigs everyday, changing contact colours, playing with contour makeup and restructuring her facial features too. There was something about Hill that did not sit right. It was nearly impossible for Natalia to be spotted that easily. Even James had trouble most of the time, and he was the Winter Soldier, her mission partner for years.

Natalia sets her jaw and relaxes it. She'd have to bring her A game on. 


	7. Chapter 7

2005, date redacted

Natalia was now in Germany. This is where Night's Blade had escaped to, or as far as Natalia managed to track him down.

She had to admit, she was fascinated by S.H.I.E.L.D. Red Room begun with their agents at a young age, brainwashing them, remaking and reshaping them, demanding their loyalty. S.H.I.E.L.D. picked up agents from all over the world, yet they trusted each other more than agents of Red Room. What made it so? How did S.H.I.E.L.D. do it? 

Natalia was taking the bait. She would, perhaps, help them a bit. It might prove helpful in case she was stuck in a tight spot. 

She was on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s hitlist, when an agent saw her they would have to kill her immediately. But no agent has ever seen Black Widow and lived to tell the tale.

Besides Maria Hill, the naughty little voice in her head whispers.

Shut it, that was a minor slip-up, Natalia growls back.

Natalia creeps down the hallways as she reaches the door to Night's Blade's apartment. 

Natalia creeps out of the building and digs her fingers into the bricks and empty spaces of the wall. She had opted for a wig and heavy makeup. She would be unrecognisable.

Natalia picks the lock on the window and slides it up slowly and silently, gun already at the ready.

Natalia hears a noise and she rounds the corner.

Her glock is pointed straight at another.

Natalia gives herself a second to be shocked, then files the feeling away.

"Hello Sveta," Natalia purrs and Svetlana's jaw clenches for a millisecond.

"Hello traitor sister," she replies before they launch into action.

2005, date redacted

After a fight that involved a jug of water, a bedpost, a lot of slamming and punching, Natalia managed to subdue Svetlana.

"You will never be welcome at Red Room again, are you sure you want to kill me?" Svetlana grits out, head drooping slightly from what looked like was going to be a minor concussion soon.

"I am done being a puppet, Sveta. Maybe you'll want that someday. But I will not kill you, Sveta. Your return to Red Room must happen. Madame would kill both of us if that does not happen. You will be punished, but you have completed your main mission, so it will not matter too much. How could you say such things, Sveta? If I were the one with a gun to my head, would you pull the trigger?"

"Yes, I would, you are a traitor, you blew up Red Room facilities, you have betrayed the Motherland!!' Svetlana yells.

"I'm running, because Red Room has not gotten the memo that the war is over. The next may come, but I am done serving countries. I will not be manipulated again. I am my own woman, first, last and always, Sveta. Flee back to Madame, but you, Sveta, are a coward and blinded. Tell Madame I'm coming to end it all. The lies, the cruelty, the breaking into girls like they're new pointe shoes."

Natalia knocks Svetlana out with the butt of her gun and watches as she slumps to the ground. 

Natalia leaves, making sure to collect a few other weapons from Night's Blade and Svetlana. She'd have her whips, she'd be okay. She too was, first and foremost, a weapon.

Natalia smiles sadly at the prone figure on the ground. They were all weapons in this long war raging, the first wave of a shadow battle. But Natalia would ensure she would come out on top, because she is the Black Widow, the most dangerous assassin known in this world.


	8. Chapter 8

2005, date redacted

Natalia had moved to Halle. It was technically still Germany, but whatever. She's gotten a new mission, she's going to be protecting an artefact and an extremely important official. There was another assassin hired to kill him, and she was hired to kill the assassin before the official got killed and the artefact got stolen.

Funnily enough, the artefact was called "The Web". It was a weapon capable of hacking into any system with a complex algorithm developed by Arnim Zola back in the days of the World Wars. HYDRA, again. They just kept popping up everywhere even though they were a dormant organisation in the present, didn't they?

It's a Crimson Matrix kind of weapon, one that would suit the best hackers of Red Room, like Nadia or the budding young hacker Yelena. She was the underling of Nadia, as far as Natalia remembered. She got transferred to another base. 

Crimson Matrix was the codename for the program for hackers in Red Room. Did have a ring to it, like Black Widow, Natalia supposed. 

Natalia greets the station master in polite and impeccable German. Natalia is a polyglot, trained to be one since young. Her knowledge of languages came in very handy. 

Natalia hops on the train under her cover, Emilia Weber. Young lady hoping to make her mark in accounting in the world, coming back to visit her Mutter's hometown in hopes of understanding her Mutter because her Mutter died in childbirth. (mother)

Natalia scrolls through her tablet as she does some research on the target.

Known associate of a handler in Red Room. His codename is Scar, as cheesy and stereotypical that was. He was, judging from reports and intel Natalia managed to pull up, your normal egotistical, narcissistic male alpha assassin. Brute strength, never covered tracks too well, preferred weapon was his bare hands, but he was good with dagger or sword too. 

Scar was going to take the official out via sniper. Natalia would be a few blocks away, hidden and ready to take him out. No direct engagement unless required. Scar may have the skills, but he didn't have the right connections and gear. He rarely wore tac gear, which made Natalia's job easier.

For some time, she toyed with the idea of slipping in cyanide into his drink when he went to the bar, she could definitely play a bartender or someone looking for a hookup, flirt with him for a while, but she decided not to. No contact, stay safe, and seduction was such a Russian method Natalia preferred to avoid for the time being. 

However, she did want to take a look at 'The Web'. It practically called out to her, she wanted it. Her mission details were prevent the assassination attempt and keep the artefact safe. Where else was safer than in the Black Widow's custody?

Satisfied with her plan, Natalia prepares herself for a day of scouting.

2005, date redacted

Natalia finds herself passing by a small ballet studio in Halle. Out of curiosity, she enters.

She sees the counterwoman greeting her, asking if she's a parent or signing up for classes.

Natalia quickly runs through her options. She could take a class or two here, she had her alias all set up, she could dye her hair so her wig would not slip if she was dancing.

Natalia signs up for one trial lesson and buys some new pointe shoes and a leotard.

2005, date redacted

Natalia brings her bag and enters the studio. There's five other women there, including the instructor.

"Hello, welcome in, I need to check a few things with you first if its okay," the instructor, a middle aged lady, says. (in german, but i don't study german and google translate isn't exactly reliable)

"Yes, I'm Emilia Weber," Natalia says.

"I'm Miss Sommer. I need you to check if this is your form you filled up when you signed up and answer a few more questions."

Natalia accepts the clipboard and scans through the form briefly.

Natalia fills in the remaining questions, like "Do you have prior experience of going on pointe?" or "Will you be interested in taking more lessons with us should this trial prove satisfactory?", to which she answered yes and no, I am travelling and this is not my place of residence.

"Thank you. Now ladies, this is Miss Weber, she'll be joining us for a lesson. From left to right is Miss Muller, Miss Taylor, Mrs Becker and Miss Walter."

Natalia gives them her best smile as they do too. Natalia moves forward to greet them with handshakes and kisses to each cheek.

"Ladies, please start your barre warm ups, we'll be working on technique today. We'll do a variation too, on pointe."

Natalia begins her stretches as she hasn't done them yet. She pulls up a few memories of Red Room stretches. From legs to neck. 

Natalia boasts her flexibility as she easily arches her feet and warms up, stretching her legs and doing splits with the ease of a prima ballerina. 

Natalia could become one, she supposed. She was certainly good enough to be one, and with enough dedication she would probably be a star on stage with her ability to emote and years of experience and hard work, but that was the dream of a young girl who died in the fire. 

Natalia indulged in the slight tingly burns of muscles stretching though. Just one time, then she's free. 

Natalia puts her rollers away and heads to the barre for more barre exercise warm ups.

She doesn't ignore the other women, but they were all concentrating. It was good, more like the quiet environment Natalia preferred. 

Natalia goes through positions and extends her leg up, chin up, knees locked, no watermelon stomach, don't forget to turn out, the picture of grace and elegance.

Natalia lets herself show a faint smile. She's in her element again.

2005, date redacted

Natalia hates new, freshly broken in pointe shoes. They pinched and were extremely hard, but she's dealt with worse. 

The variation they were doing today was Giselle variation act one. 

"Everyone here has heard of Giselle, am I right?" Miss Sommer asks.

They all nod. 

"Does anyone know the complete steps to the first act?"

Natalia raises her hand, so does Miss Walter.

"Miss Walter, do explain."

"It's a performance of about two minutes. For the steps, its easier to demonstrate, but unfortunately I am not well rehearsed in the steps."

"Thank you. Today we'll be memorising and trying out the steps."

The next hour consists of Miss Sommer teaching and Natalia becoming slightly bored. She already knew this, but she did try to pay attention anyways.

"Good, now, we'll give it a try after the break, alright?"

Natalia takes a sip from her bottle in the break room as she runs through the steps.

Madame's corrections and her handler's voices ringing in her head, she carefully adjusts as she nearly knocks into a door.

Run out, arms spread, show emotion Natalia! Gradually come to a stop, on pointe on one foot, other locked in, leg down, run arms spread to the left. One tiny step in front, hands in a cross position at neck, neck extension exaggerated, arms locked but loose. 

She hums the music as the dance flashes through her head.

Natalia, or Emilia, she supposed, is ready.

2005, date redacted

Natalia moves in time with the music and spins. Knees locked, on pointe, do not fall, you do not fail.

Up and down, leg up, chin raised, burn brighter than a shooting star Natalia, the stage is yours. 

Natalia ends the act in a final flourish.

There's clapping resounding and she sees the women with their jaws dropped.

"You are very talented, Miss Weber. Did you try out for Royal Opera House or Bolshoi?"

Natalia gives a bashful smile.

"No, Miss Sommer, I did learn from an ex-Bolshoi ballerina though. She taught me everyday. No less than eight to nine hours a day or I would be considered slacking. Watch you figure, Emilia! Don't get fat again, Emilia! Again, Emilia!" Natalia laughs as the others do too.

"You've got a great gift, you really could audition."

"Thank you, but that won't be the case I'm afraid. I've got a job to do already, thank you for having me."

And that is how Emilia Weber charmed the ever loving hell out of the five women she just met. Natalia smiles. She's still got her flair, after all. It was a good idea to finally give herself a chance to express herself, to feel rejuvinated again, to feel more Natalia than killer assassin and Black Widow, like she's never actually there.

She's ready for her next mission. Clear mind, target acquired, killing calm, welcome to the Red Room Natalia Alianovna Romanova, last living descendant of the royal Romanova bloodline, fated Black Widow, gifted and burning in light. 


	9. Chapter 9

2005, date redacted

Natalia finishes her next few missions. Israel, Japan, Kazakhstan, Lebanon. Macau, Netherlands, Oman.

Natalia's, albeit ashamedly, getting sloppy, tired. She sees the world, she's uncaged from Red Room, yet she is still trapped. trapped in her own skin, with her demons everyday. 

Natalia's next mission in in Peru. She's tasked to destroy more Red Room facilities and once and for all bring down the Academy. 

The prospect doesn't seem very inviting at the moment. Once she's finished with it, what's next? Slide into a new cover? Remain an assassin for hire, running from authorities and enemies everyday? Natalia's tired of it all, but she has her mission and she will not fail.

The gun feels dead in her hands as she assembles it again and again.

2005, date redacted

Natalia hisses slightly as she stitches up her wounds. The last mission had not gone as planned. Sveta was there, Sveta was ready to kill her. Natalia had slammed a knife between her ribs and killed her, but not before Sveta slashed her with a hidden dagger. 

Aliya was now rogue too. Nadia dead, caught in the crossfire. Yelena nowhere to be seen. Olga blown up in a facility, Katrina dead from a killswitch, Kseniya killed by Natalia, Anna crushed by debris.

So many dead, because of her. Because of her want for freedom. 

The Black Widow of legends will bring glory and fame, but at what cost?

There is always a price to be paid, Madame used to say. Natalia, fresh out of cryo and re-programming, would not remember. But its been about 9 months since her last re-programming, and she remembers everything. Everything feels real, at least. Painted in stark red and black. It burns, everything burns.

Natalia downs another gulp of vodka. She drinks not to forget, but to numb. The weight of the souls and lives she has taken to feed her own is breaking her back, crushing her skull just like Anna's last moments, crying out for help.

A Black Widow in training, crying out for help because she did not want to die. No one reached out to help her.

Natalia finishes the last of her stitches as she throws away the empty bottle of vodka and lets herself shakily meditate until she's falling into a sleep plagued by ghosts of her past, her life.


	10. Chapter 10

2005, date redacted

Natalia tracks down a S.H.I.E.L.D. office in Romania. She drops off some intel she got from her previous trip to Qatar.

Its her life now, tipping off S.H.I.E.L.D. and disappearing again. 

She was drinking, drowning her past and hurling her guts up when she decided to get herself together before she got killed and do _something_ to ease the howling spirits. 

Natalia has the resources and the skills. So she got up, patched herself together as well as she could and begun her new life.

It's just adding another layer to her, nothing unfamiliar. Black Widow reborn.

Natalia's tired, but she'll deal with it when she's dead.

2005, date redacted

S.H.I.E.L.D. is now trying to chase her down. They see her as a threat, even though she's literally giving them free intel for no price. But there is always a price to pay, and she will collect what is owed to her later.

Natalia suspects they know that and are coming to eliminate her before she does to them. 

Natalia doesn't tell them that she has no intention to unless the circumstances demanded it.

Natalia is a viper surrounded by wolves and lions. She's trapped, but she still has a few cards up her sleeve, some that will keep her alive and running.

2006, date redacted

Natalia has to admit, she's somewhat amused by S.H.I.E.L.D.'s attempts to kill her.

She's currently in Singapore. It's a very good place to lay low, although it is harder to fake credentials there. She lives in a HDB flat now, in a two room apartment. There's tons of neighbours surrounding, its a small place and she can keep track of all the roads and exits, good luck trying to kill in now S.H.I.E.L.D.

S.H.I.E.L.D. is trying to flush her out by going to the authorities. Natalia snorts at their efforts to locate her. She'll move soon if they do get too close to her for comfort. She'll sort of miss this though, the illusion of safety the place gives her. It's a nice country to stay in, albeit small and pricey.

Natalia slips off to Changi Airport to take a flight to Thailand after two weeks.

2006, date redacted

Natalia taunts S.H.I.E.L.D. by leaving messages and small notes in intel she drops. She's hacked S.H.I.E.L.D. about ten times now. S.H.I.E.L.D. is going crazy patching up the holes she leaves in their firewall and layering more security Natalia gets through eventually. 

They should be grateful, she has access to all of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s information and files yet she doesn't leak them, only pointing out their weak spots and helping add more information. 

They take it as an intimidation and a threat that she's coming to kill them all.

Natalia smirks. Good, they should be afraid. 

She finds out that Maria Hill is now Deputy Director. Natalia has to respect the woman, she's risen up the ranks pretty fast. 

S.H.I.E.L.D. usually sends in STRIKE Team Alpha or STRIKE Team Delta to deal with whatever mess Natalia left behind, as well as intel. She never failed to be amused by how much they looked like dogs chasing their own tails when they realized that she had evaded capture yet again.

Natalia doesn't kill them, just observes quietly as they work together as a team, trusts each other to have their backs.

She wonders how that must feel.

_Emotions are weaknesses, Natalia. Show emotion to get what you want, but that's it. They are weapons, use them wisely. There is no you and me, only survival in this war of blood. You have no place in this world, because you have powers and abilities beyond comprehension. You are a living weapon, a series of truthful lies, ready to become anyone, you will bring glory to the Motherland, da?_

_Da Madame._


	11. Chapter 11

2006, date redacted

Natalia lazily smiles at the man dressed impeccably in a suit in front of her. She's at a ball in Ukraine. There's a certain woman she wants to speak to. 

Natalia slides down beside Nadia as Nadia notices her and sighs.

"Widow, code 44, what do you want?" 

"That's no way to greet a sister, is it, Nadia, or should I say, Tanya?"

"You uploaded files of Red Room onto the internet, albeit well hidden. You blew our covers, if you're asking for a favour, no."

"I was just dropping by to inform you, one Widow to another, that S.H.I.E.L.D. is here. They've been hunting me for a few months now, I've been leading them on a particularly fun wild goose chase across the globe. You happen to be in the way too, and since they also have a kill order on you, and as an olive branch, I'm informing you. Get ready to make things messy and get your hands stained filthy again, sister. Don't pretend you're above that. It's survival, and us Red Room ballerinas are the best at it, hmm?"

Nadia scowls briefly at her but nods in acceptance.

"Tentative partnership, I suppose. Now, we've got about five minutes before they spot us, and we'll make this fun. Do you know who else is alive?"

"Aliya, I've heard rumours of her defecting to HYDRA, I do have to dig into that. Others say that she's currently somewhere in Brazil. As long as she's out of the way, we're fine. Sveta, I had to kill her. Sasha's joined to Bolshoi, surprise surprise. Might be for a cover though. As far as I know, there are twenty eight of us still alive. Most are the young ones, I think they were placed in orphanages. They don't have enough training or kill switches, thank god."

"My memories are... erratic at best. It's all very disorientating, but I've gotten myself together at least. Its not pretty in the head," Nadia quietly admits.

Natalia spots the archer, Clinton, notice them.

"Head's up, your five o clock, we've been spotted. It was nice seeing you again, don't get into too much trouble. Also, don't kill Pierce, he's S.H.I.E.L.D., but dig up as much dirt on him as you can find. The deeper the better."

Natalia gives her a last wink and kiss on both cheeks as they move to two separate ends of the room.

Natalia smirks as the STRIKE Team Delta pauses and starts to discuss tactics and sending a pack of five to tail Nadia.

Natalia spots another Team outside, guarding. S.H.I.E.L.D. was levelling up, it seemed. No worries, she would manage.

Natalia discreetly shoves on the silencer to the gun she had in her thigh holster through the slit of her dress.

She daintily removes her gloves and reveals smaller Widow's bites bracelets she had custom made before the fall of Red Room. They were much more concealable, although less effective.

Natalia glides to another man to dance, and then discreetly shocks him and screams and wails as he drops to the ground.

Natalia disappears in the chaos.

2006, date redacted

Natalia heads to her safe house in Venezuela. She's chased by three agents, but effectively knocks them out before they can report. Come and catch me if you can, Natalia scribbles out a hasty message with some dirt on the side walk as she flees to collect her tickets she bought just in the morning and leaves.

2006, date redacted

Maria Hill fumes as she glares at the picture of the message. "I want STRIKE Team Delta, STRIKE Team Alpha, Tech teams 3 and 7 and Forensic team Star on this case. Black Widow is not going to stop anytime soon. Search up that woman she was talking to."

Natalia laughs as she watches through the live feed. Oh, it was real fun riling up the Commander and watching the agents scurry about in fear all right.

Natalia manages to see those blue eyes rolling with thunderstorms as she is kicked out of the server by the firewalls.


	12. Chapter 12

2006, date redacted

Natalia is being chased by Scar. Apparently he did not die and was seeking revenge. Natalia led him straight to the wolves, or the STRIKE Team she knew was loitering around. 

As they fought, Natalia lounged in her hotel room in Yemen. Natalia hacks into S.H.I.E.L.D. security cameras as she sees Deputy Director Hill, focused and barking orders. 

Nadia had been captured, apparently. An ex Red Room handler had found her, wanted to hire her, but she activated her own kill switch and killed herself. Nadia would rather die than be working to kill for someone else again. 

Pity. Natalia was going to pass her The Web. She had shoved it into a pile of clothes and into the dryer in her hotel room. Not the best hiding spot, but it would do for now. 

Natalia is done running, she's becoming sloppy, being spotted, not covering her tracks. Natalia had stopped and looked back right into the eyes of her monster and decided to fight. 

Natalia conveniently stashes away her knives, daggers, guns, ammo, bites, garrote, poisons, powders and others away. She dresses herself in a robe. Natalia had left a few clues and traces behind in Ukraine of where she would head to after Venezuela. Being the tactical genius Hill was, it wouldn't take long for her to find Natalia.

If Natalia was going to die, she would die on her own terms. Death has been her lullaby since she was a mere child, she has taken and reaped and sowed so many lives. She's a child of Azrael, she's not an angel of death but a demon of death. Black Widow kills are slow and methodical. It would be almost poetic for hers to be the same, as she had spun such a long game to end it here, in her tiny hotel room.

Natalia sips her glass of wine as she hears someone landing on her windowsill, gun pointed straight to her forehead.

Natalia smirks.

"Hello Clinton, come to kill me?"

2006, date redacted

Clint Barton has seen all kinds of shit in his pretty much shitty life. He's seen despair, pain, fear and suffering, but never this. This, this devil in human form dressed in a robe and smirking at him seductively.

"Game's over, Widow. You lose."

She hums in agreement, or consent, or rage or whatever the hell she was feeling.

She fixes her cold, dark and most of all, empty and surprisingly _tired_ green eyes on him.

"Pull the trigger, Clinton, I dare you," she simply says and presses her forehead to the gun, sinking to the ground and kneeling.

Clint sucked in a breath. Coulson was yelling at him, telling him to stop stalling and do something.

Black Widow, never ever in a million years, has kneeled for anyone. Yet she does it, for S.H.I.E.L.D. A last game before her death, or escape, perhaps?

She's the picture of perfect subservience, bowed, hunching, waiting.

This isn't a hit and kill mission, Clint realises. This entire time, they were playing right into Widow's hands. A game, all of it, to let her die on her own terms.

Clint would not be the one who swung the axe.

"No," Clint says and removes the gun from her forehead.

Widow looks up, eyes flashing in dangerous manners and confused.

"No? Your Commander ordered so, your handler, Coulson, is now yelling into your comms and telling you to **finish the mission.** You do not do this and you will fail, Clinton."

"Look, I am not going to kill you, okay? You look like you're only a mere adult fresh into the world, yet you look at me like you carry the weight of the world. I'm not going to kill you. You're basically a kid who's seen too much shit. What do you say, I can't promise anything, but just hand yourself over to S.H.I.E.L.D."

Widow looks up at him, frowning.

"I can kill you in a second and run off, continue this wild goose chase, unless you end it here. Or call someone else to, I am done being weaponised and running. I'm tired, but my fate is set in stone."

"Not unless someone else opens another door in your long hallway. S.H.I.E.L.D. can help de-program you, help you heal. You won't be a weapon, you'll be an asset. I can convince Coulson and the Deputy to help fill in the paperwork, don't know about Director Fury though. Wild card, it seems. What do you say, leave this life of craziness and danger behind, out of the fire and straight into the frying pan, or something like that?"

2006, date redacted

This man has a death wish. Her, Natalia Alianovna Romanova, Black Widow, Slavic Shadow, Red Death, join S.H.I.E.L.D., the most Americanized kind of organisation ever? 

"Tell me, Clinton, how do you suggest playing this out?" Natalia purrs instead.

"For starters, I can get you a decent meal, you look like you're starving. Or it could be because you're a ballerina, or whatever. I assume you've read my file, your hacking, by the way, has made at least twenty tech agents scream in frustration, so congratulations. I think the rest of the team has dealt with the other assassin down the street already, he's detained and ready for questioning."

"Will I have a handler? Rules? What is the punishment for failure? Any boundaries?"

Clint looks slightly uncomfortable at that. The man had a shit poker face, that was for sure.

"It's up to you, I suppose. I can't promise anything, only hope."

Hope. A beautiful word that meant empty or broken promises. 

Like Alina, who gave her life for Natalia for nothing, her sacrifice in vain. Alina should have been the one alive now, not Natalia.

Natalia slumps down the bed further.

What's the point of hiding forever, if she were to die under torture and de-programming, it would be a worthier end to her long long story of a princess, wouldn't it?

_Once upon a time in a land of blood and war, there lived a young girl._

Natalia licks her dry and chapped lips.

_She was very beautiful, with porcelain white skin and emerald eyes. Hair as fiery as her soul. She shone brighter than a star and loved dancing._

She had no choice, she was stuck in a dead end.

_She lived her days dancing, carefree and happy. Then the fire came._

Natalia has been tried, again and again, by fire, by cold, by pain by blood and by torture. 

_She will save herself. She isn't a damsel in distress, she's a Russian through and through._

This is her choice, not Clinton's. Its' her decision to make if she wants to reach out, latch onto that outstretched hand and drag herself out of the pit she was about to fall into.

_She was the only one to survive the fire. Everyone else wasn’t strong enough to come out alive. She told herself that she would never be weak. She would train and dance but she would not provide any weakness for knives to slide in._

Let the light guide you, Natalia.

You will not break, you will not falter, you will not shatter, you will not yield.

_She became, not the most beautiful princess of the Romanova bloodline, but the most talented and deadly Romanova. The Black Widow._

I am the Black Widow of legends, and even death cannot take that away from me.

_She is the saviour of us. She will lead us out of this. But there are so many strong girls, who is the one the legend foretold? So many of the Romanova bloodline have fitted the description but failed, so many others have attempted and not succeeded. Perhaps it is just a legend after all. A fairytale story._

This is her story, and she decides the ending.

Natalia gets up from her kneel and takes Clinton's hand in hers.

The embers of a fire in nearby cottage homes flared, almost in solidarity.  



	13. Chapter 13

2006, date redacted

In 2006, 14 May, S.H.I.E.L.D. does the impossible and captures the Black Widow. 

Natalia moves through the sea of agents. She's slightly disappointed at the quality of handcuffs, seriously, they took her 10 seconds to figure out and another 30 to undo discreetly.

She leaves them on though. She must not look like a threat, she must look like the picture of elegance and fragile sorrow. Like she's truly atoning. 

Natalia isn't remotely sorry about most of her kills. She did it to survive, nothing more. But these agents, pure, untouched by death and true pain, would never understand. 

She thinks Clinton and somehow Hill would. Maybe, perhaps. She hated pity or sympathy of the sorts. If they did pity her she would sooner add one more mark to her ledger than deal with the agent. 

Natalia spots Commander Maria Hill on the Commanding deck. Her gaze pierces through her, like Hill is analyzing and recording her. 

Natalia's a mirror, she reflects what people choose to see to their own eyes. Natalia wonders what Hill sees.

Hill strides towards her.

"Cut the bullshit Romanova," she snaps. (Romanova, not Widow, not assassin, not Natalia, just Romanova)

Natalia conjures her best smile, releases the handcuffs and shakes Hill's hand. Hill shows a flare of surprise, but then shakes back.

"Stand down agents," she commands.

Natalia smirks as she lets go of Hill's warm hands littered with callouses. (So unlike her cold, cold ones)

"Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D., Romanova, I'd say I would give you the grand tour, but that'll come after your de-programming. Barton, in my office, now! Coulson, lead her to the holding site."

Natalia watches as Hill turns around and her electrifying blue eyes are now gazing at poor Clinton.

Clinton had a heart, it would get him into trouble someday. Natalia wonders how he managed to do it, have such a tough life yet remain Clinton-like.

Natalia is roughly guided to the holding site as she awaits her future.

2006, date redacted

"Hello Clinton," Natalia greets.

"Hey WIdow. So you're basically cleared for the beginning of your de-programming, Hill yelled at me for 24 minutes before calming down, then Coulson yelled at me for another 10 minutes. They're nice though, you'll like them. Gotta say, we're going to be on a wild ride, huh?"

"We?"

"Yeah, we. You don't think I'm throwing you to the wolves right? When I first joined it was crazy, the stares of the senior agents and competition is shit. Made friends with Carter though, we tough it out together."

"Friends," Natalia repeats for the sake of repeating, almost disbelievingly.

"Yeah, you know, another person who you share your food with, who will be there when you need it. Friends trust each other, and they don't purposely lie to each other to hurt them. That kind of thing, ya know?"

"Would you say you and Carter are friends?"

"Yeah, I would say that. Sharon's really nice, you should meet her someday."

"You say that as if I do have a chance to survive de-programming. It's literally re making me, re shaping who I am. I have a 50-50 chance to live."

"I trust that your will to live is greater than whatever shit that crazy Russian-spy organisation for kids did to you," Clinton shrugs.

"So we're friends?" Natalia confusedly asks.

"We could be, if you wanted to. It's pretty simple you know. In elementary school, we go up to someone and go, hey. wanna be friends and hang out? Those friendships don't usually last long, because you're still a kid, but its the thought that counts."

"Friends," Natalia says again, to the American who has completely and thoroughly changed her life upside down in a matter of minutes.

"Yeah, Talia, can I call you that?"

"Mama used to call me that. She's dead now. She died in the fire, I was the only one who lived. I'm technically the last living Romanova. It's why I'm the Black Widow, I'm basically a walking Grim Reaper, as you Americans call it. Or a walking funeral. My ledger is gushing in red. Redder than my hair," Natalia fingers subconsciously at it but immediately stamps down on the habit she recently developed.

"Yeah, I know. My brother told me the legend. It was really cool, you know. I've never really liked princess stories, Disney and all that. Yours was probably my favourite."

"So you like me and want to befriend me because of my legend?"

"No, I want to befriend you because of who you can be, because I'm watching you slip deeper and deeper into the hole I once was in. I'm not going to just sit by and watch someone self destruct like that, that's not who I am."

"Your heart is pure, Clinton. It is going to be your unravelling. In this line of work, there is no good or evil, only survival."

Clinton looks at her with a suddenly inscrutable face.

"We're here to prove all those bastards wrong then, hmm? Come on, lets get you ready for your first wave of de-programming, then I'll get you the meal I promised, wait, we have to watch disney together sometime. It's going to be hilarious."

Natalia, amused, lets Clinton fill the silence and ramble on.


	14. Chapter 14

2006, date redacted

It had taken forever, but she was finally finished with re-programming. Natalia saw Clinton standing (more like nervously shifting around) behind the glass walls. 

The Med team had taken test after test after test before declaring her remade and no longer brainwashed Russian assassin.

"Hey there, I got a couple of DVDs of Disney movies I promised you, lets get out of here and we'll go watch them," Clinton grins and helps her up.

Natalia smacks his arm away and pushes herself off the bed. Oh god, physiotherapy was a bitch.

Natalia makes it three steps before nearly collapsing to the ground, cringing more at her bruised pride than anything else as Clinton reaches out to catch her before she hit her head and got a concussion.

"Miss Romanova, report back here in 4 hours, we'll need you to do some paperwork, Agent Barton, don't keep us waiting," the head nurse chides as she hands Natalia a cup of water.

Natalia weakly smirks as she gratefully drinks it.

"Come on, lets go, the movies aren't going to wait!"

"Actually, they are," Natalia dryly points out.

"Well aren't you the cutest and most soft Russian I've ever met in my life."

Natalia's kneeing of him in the balls was justified, shut up.

2006, date redacted

She may be de-programmed and whatnot, but she was still the killer assassin who was very much competent and still capable. She had worn off her muscle disuse and sped through physiotherapy within a week. After four to five months of disuse, it felt great to be able to stretch and move again.

She and Clinton regularly sparred. They often used the private gym that Carter had convinced Coulson to give them access to.

Natalia was still not cleared for missions or anything, still put under daily examinations. Her companion when Clinton was away on missions was the S.H.I.E.L.D. guide book. She had flipped through the first few pages regarding its history and all that fun stuff and headed straight for the misconduct section.

It was the rule of any organisation, to find out its true roots, head straight for how it punishes and treats its agents.

S.H.I.E.L.D. was pretty decent, actually. Strict but fair. 

She met Carter on one of the days that Clinton was gone. Carter had stupidly invited her to spar. Natalia had not went for her at full capacity, but she still managed to knock Sharon Carter to the ground as she groaned but sprung up, giving the signal to tap out only when she was complaining "My muscles feel like they're melting, and I've trained with Peggy Carter and Maria Hill".

They had bonded with Melinda May over crappy cafeteria food. 

'Where I was from, we called these places canteens. And the food wasn't too bad. You'd think that for a high-flying covert intelligence organisation they'd at least have decent food," Melinda said as she bit into the omelette and grimaced.

"I would literally let Barton do my makeup for a day to get some decent coffee or maybe borsch, I miss borsch," Natalia grumbled.

"I just want to not die from poisoning, what the hell is in this porridge?" Sharon replies.

It came to a surprise that Natalia was finally cleared for a mission a month or so later, and Maria Hill was to be STRIKE Team Delta's handler for the next foreseeable month because Coulson was on med leave.

Natalia had visited and gave him flowers, even though their conversations had been limited to "Natalia, please don't try to trip Sitwell everyday" or "Remember to eat your meds and read the S.H.I.E.L.D. guide book".

Natalia had given a genuine smile when she watched Coulson and Barton play Battleship as Coulson was complaining about needing entertainment.

Friends. That's what they were. Friends don't break promises, friends share food with each other, friends trust each other. 

Natalia's lips quirked upwards.

2006, date redacted

It had all gone to shit, but at least Natalia was competent enough to save their asses.

The rest of STRIKE Team Delta besides Barton were stupid. 

It was literally a simple infiltration mission, grab the intel and go, but they made things complicated when one agent was heard and the paranoid ring leader deployed a tank at him.

Hill was yelling at them coordinates and plan for extraction, told them to stay put, to stand down.

But the mission, that voice in Natalia's head had said.

It's been ingrained in her. Always complete the mission, no matter the cause.

She had ignored their shouts and Barton's exasperated sigh as she ran off to the leader's room, kicked the door down, knocked out three guards, downloaded the intel and made it to the extraction point, all in a record breaking two and one sixth minutes.

They got onto the Helicarrier from the helicopter and Maria Hill was yelling at them, at her, and Natalia was just plain confused.

"But the mission was to retrieve the intel," Natalia stubbornly says, jaw shifting. 

There were gasps to be heard from the rest of STRIKE Team Delta, Barton just winced.

Maria Hill's nostrils flared as she very obviously stamped down her anger.

"This is S.H.I.E.L.D., we have our rules. When I tell you to stand down, you do it, whether you like it or not. Follow my orders, no matter what."

"I had the situation under control," Natalia rebutts. If she has the capability, why not? 

"We do not, under any circumstances, risk an agent's life, you hear me Romanova? We minimise casualties to a zero if possible. We work by a strict code, and if you can't work with it, your letter of resignation would most definitely be accepted. Rest of you, debrief is over, head to med bay if you need to, if its only a scratch and its not bleeding don't be a pussy! Romanova, you're pulled off duty for the next week, we thought you could handle a mission, but turns out you're not ready."

Maria Hill turns and leaves as agents create a path for her.

Natalia stares in confusion after her.

"Come on Natalia, lets get you patched up. Then we'll go and finished watching Pocohantas, hmm?" Clinton offers.

"I don't understand, I finished the mission. I finished it, I got the intel, I didn't fail," Natalia whispers as her head reels.

"Yeah, you didn't fail. Come on, lets head to my quarters and I'll get that wrist of yours looked at. I know you hate med bay."

The door slams and Natalia's eyes soften.

"I don't understand, I didn't fail, I never fail."

"Hill's got a rough past, I only know rumours and the gist of it, but she's had a tough life, she lost her entire team in one simple mission, she also hates it when her orders are disobeyed and rules unfollowed. She's just mad she couldn't get there in time to help, I think she takes it personally. She's a soldier, that one. Most of the agents are, and when they are told to stand down they always do. They're not like us, we're more relaxed and freelanced. We have to live with it though, adapt. The Director and Deputy Director are both ex-soldiers, they've got it in their DNA. Come on, she'll cool off, lets go relax a bit, don't take it personally."

Natalia lets Clinton guide her to his quarters as they watch cartoons together in relative silence.


	15. Chapter 15

2006, date redacted

Natalia spars with Clinton. 

She has nothing to do but re-read the S.H.I.E.L.D. guide book, visit Coulson and spar with Barton. It's dull, entirely unlike Red Room where she never had a moment's rest.

So the bored assassin takes to exploring the Helicarrier, of course. She climbs into Clinton's vents, leaves him a packet of peanuts she snagged from the cafeteria before they were gone because friends share food, she wanders along the corridors, she sits on the edge of the Helicarrier in a particular spot that still ahd enough oxygen for her to respire and watches agents scurry by from her newfound hidden spot. 

It's liberating, its surprisingly comfortable and oddly satisfying. Natalia wonders how life would have been if she were not taken by the Red Room. 

Natalia memorises the S.H.I.E.L.D. guide book, all 1032 pages. She has always had a good memory, and with the diluted serum in her, it just enhanced her abilities.

Natalia played battleship against the computer on her tablet too. Watching Clinton and Coulson play had been fun, she wanted to try it out.

At first, it was so hard that she was convinced it was rigged. She got used to it after a while, and engaged in very harsh battles against the computerised opponent.

She accidentally fell asleep one day there and woke up the next morning at 0400 sore.

The cool breeze fluttered as she watched the sunrise.

On impulse, Natalia snaps a picture and sends it to Barton via email drafts. He was currently in Prague on an undercover mission, so he would be gone for a few weeks.

"The sunrise is more beautiful than you being defeated in a KO," she types and smirks.

Natalia gets an email telling her to head to Sitwell's for paperwork. 

Fuck, did no one here have any sleep? 

2006, date redacted

"Here, we have a set of your updated profile, if there are any changes to be made do inform any Level 9 agent or above."

Natalia briefly flicks through all of the questions she had painstakingly taken a few hours to fill out, mostly from procrastination. Paperwork took forever, Red Room never needed paperwork for their agents. 

There's a knock on the door and Sitwell shouts a quick "enter".

"Agent Sitwell, STRIKE Team Delta has returned from Prague on Mission 428-Green. Med bay is ready, operation went FUBAR slightly, Agent Barton took heavy hits and Agent Dolores is currently nursing a concussion, just awaking."

Sitwell nods.

"We'll do this tomorrow, report at 0900. Dismissed, Agent Romanova."

"What will be of Agent Barton's status?" Natalia asks. 

"That, Agent, is none of your concern. The mission is above your clearance level, I'm afraid. It's a Level 6 one, and you're still on Level 3."

"Friends look out for each other, besides, I'm technically on STRIKE Team Delta, and I have a right to know about my team members' statuses, according to Section 36-H of the chapter "STRIKE Teams", page 539 of the S.H.I.E.L.D. handbook."

"You're on probation, Agent. Don't make things worse. Besides, friends look out for each other, but do you really think S.H.I.E.L.D. trusts you, Agent? You're fresh out of re-programming, anything can set you off, you're kind of volatile and delicate right now. Dismissed, Agent Romanova." 

Natalia wipes her face from any emotion.

Love is for children, Natalia. No matter what you do, or say, you're still nothing but a weapon. Little spider, caught in her own web.

"Understood, Agent Sitwell."

Natalia turns and leaves. She needed to gain S.H.I.E.L.D.'s trust, and first thing to do to gain their trust is fit in. 

Natalia pulls out the necessary forms and fills them in.

She's S.H.I.E.L.D. now, not Red Room, and she'll do whatever it takes to prove it to them. Including re-making herself until she fit in.

2006, date redacted

"Natalia, what in ever loving fuck are you doing?" Barton screeches into her ear through the phone as Natasha winces.

"Stop screaming like a banshee, Barton. Besides, its Natasha now."

"Right, Natasha, want to tell me what prompted this change, and why agents are now capable of sparring with you and also beating you?"

"I'm fitting in, Barton. I can't earn their trust, neither can I earn their respect, this is one of the only ways to at least try to fit into S.H.I.E.L.D."

There's a pause on the other end of the line.

"Natasha, you don't have to do that shit."

"Relax Barton, I'm comfortable with everything. I can slide on covers without a second thought. It's kind of natural, you know? So you don't worry, go focus on recovering, don't skip your meals, don't pull your stitches fussing about me you mother hen, and go recover."

Natasha hangs up and sighs.

Emotions are complicated, but most of all, humans.

Friends. Odd concept, but Natasha Romanoff needed to make friends or she would not fit in. Natalia had allies, now Natasha needs to charm the ever-loving hell out of S.H.I.E.L.D.


	16. Chapter 16

2006, date redacted

Natasha does exactly that. She becomes Natasha, she bitches with Sharon, she spars with Melinda, she makes about half of the agents on the Helicarrier swoon for her, she's carefully calculated smirks and teasing and winks. She's the pretty little package all wrapped up. She doesn't stand out, and soon people forget about her, about the things a Black Widow does. She's soon just Agent Romanoff, the mysterious, intoxicating beautiful thing.

She knows it kind of irks Barton, to see her like that, to see the agent's eyes trailing on her ass as she walks by, but he keeps quiet, respects her wishes.

Natasha soon makes allies and "friends". They're Natasha's friends, not Natalia's. Natasha's friends are mostly fake, all just a fling, like her. Natasha does one night stands and ditches men and women like they're disposable, but they still come back for more and craves her. Natalia's one night stands usually end up dead and shoved into a cabinet.

She's finally cleared for missions again, levelling up from Level 3 to Level 5. 

With Barton and Coulson still technically on med leave, Natasha returns to STRIKE Team Delta smirking and playful. Her carefully constructed cover was helpful in gaining trust, she found out. No one would suspect Natasha of all people to be a traitor, no matter her past.

"New mission, STRIKE Team Delta. We're going to be rescuing hostages in a warehouse in Slovakia. Report for briefing at 1300, you'll be dropped off for the mission at 1900. AD Hill will be joining the six of you since Agent Barton is on med leave," Coulson says.

Coulson, he was so adamant about this case that he forced his way into it. He would be their handler, he got what he wanted, ah well.

Natasha wasn't complaining, he was a good man, an excellent handler too.

Med leave did suck too.

Hill was joining them. The one person Natasha hasn't managed to sway. Sitwell says that she's delicate, about as delicate as an atomic bomb, that is. She should steer clear from Hill, she needed base rapport from more agents and especially her own team before Hill would begin to see her as an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and not ex-Red Room assassin who led her on a wild goose chase across the globe for a year. 

2006, date redacted

Natasha curses as she ducks under the table. "Who the fuck brings a refill for a machine gun?" she hears Agent Simon curse over the comms.

"Requesting immediate evac, Coulson, things are getting messy here!" Hill yells into the comms.

"ETA three minutes, you'll need to get out of there, helicopter landing on the roof."

"Copy that, Hill out. STRIKE Team Delta, move out!"

The table had a hole now, shit. The guy had no signs of stopping. They had rescued the hostages already, but then he comes out and starts shooting them with a goddamn machine gun. If he ran out, Natasha would have the chance to knock him out. 

"Agent Romanoff, what are you doing, lets go!" Hill hisses as she dives under the table with her.

"I'm not exactly bullet proof, you know. You head down, I'll handle this, he's finishing soon."

"What- shit," Hill hisses as she realises that fuck, Natasha doesn't wear Kevlars, and the moment she comes out she's going to get shot at and will die before she hits the ground.

"Yeah. Go on Hill, got a job to do, team's waiting for you. Mission completed," Natasha smirks at her.

Hill narrows her eyes.

"No way, on the count of three, I'm going to cover for you and you run, understood? And its an order Agent Romanoff."

Natasha frowns.

"Aye aye Commander," she concedes and crouches.

"One, two three," Hill says and she lifts up Natasha and runs.

Natasha's head is whirling but holy shit.

She helps Hill by wrapping herself and her legs around her torso and covers her head.

Hill is running and Natasha's basically uselessly clinging onto her for protection and cover.

Natasha hisses as Hill accidentally knocks her into a railing.

"That will do more damage than bullets," Natasha fake grumbles.

"Shut it Romanoff, its just going to be a tiny bruise," Hill shoots back.

Natasha unwinds herself slightly as she brings out her gun and begins to shoot at the machine gun guy.

He was wearing a kevlar, but he wasn't fully covered. S.H.I.E.L.D. has a no kill policy, which did prove to be a handful, especially at times like this.

If Natasha shot him anywhere at the head he would die, so that was a no go. Natasha wrenches off a piece of rusted metal hanging from the railing as she throws it at the guy, stopping him for a few precious seconds as he dodged it.

"Did you just tear out metal?" Hill pants.

"I'm not as weak as people think I am, Hill," Natasha retorts.

Natasha lines up her aim and shoots at the machine gun and the guy's fingers. 

On her last shot, she got the guy's pinkie as he howled and dropped the gun.

"Set me down gently Hill, you nearly killed me when you charged into a railing," Natasha settles for a teasing tone.

Hill is panting and sweating as she complies, gently letting Natasha to the ground.

Natasha does a quick scan of Hill.

"I'm fine Agent, lets go before he decides to throw his gun at us instead," Hill replies at Natasha's probing look.

Natasha accepts the deflect as they head to the helicopter.

2006, date redacted

"Good work everyone. Commander, med bay, now. No Maria, I do not care if you are a higher ranking than me, go now. Rest of you, debrief now," Coulson orders as medical agents come to get Hill to the med bay.

Natasha stares after her. Hill was odd, fascinating, complex. She's a puzzle that Natasha can't solve, but she itches to.

"Romanoff," Coulson lightly warns.

Natasha follows Coulson into the debrief room as they go through a quick rundown of what happened and got more reports to fill in.

2006, date redacted

STRIKE Team Delta got shore leave for a month. Natasha was still confused about Hill, why would she cover for her? Natasha frowns as she bandages her ankle. She must have sprained it somehow.

Natasha goes to visit Barton. She doesn't understand. Why would Hill do such a thing? They weren't even friends.

When she told Barton what happened, Barton wasn't helpful.

"I don't know, go ask her," he had said, eyes twinkling.

"You prick, you know why, tell me!" Natasha grumbles, slugging him lightly on the arm.

"She did look pretty banged up when she was passing by my ward though. You could visit her once the med team clears her for visitors below Level 7."

"I don't even know what to tell her, what to say, why is being human so complicated," Natasha groans as she head plants Barton's bed.

"There there. No one said it would be easy, I don't know what Hill thinks most of the time too. Just go tell her you're grateful for her help, and talk to her. She'll appreciate it, I suppose. Sharon and Coulson always complain about her not having friends except paperwork and more work or the gym."

Natasha groans again in frustration as Barton gives her a shit-eating grin.

"You're no help at all, you know that? You're lucky we're friends," Natasha scowls.

"Yeah yeah. Now go, my Russian comrade, you've got a job to do and you better do it right!"


	17. Chapter 17

2006, date redacted

Natasha chickens out. Nope, she was not going to talk to Hill. Nope, never, they could pretend nothing happened.

Barton was being annoying, bugging her to go every time she visited. Natasha had smacked him over the head with a pillow.

"If you don't woman up and go talk to Hill I'm sending in Sharon to drag you there."

"What, no! You can't make me."

"Try me bitch," Barton replies.

"I hate you," Natasha grumbles.

"I love you too, bitch. I won't ever stop loving you, bitch."

A nearby medical agent laughs.

Natasha just raises an eyebrow at Clinton and he laughs too.

2006, date redacted

Natasha brings flowers and visits Hill's ward.

"Hello Agent Romanoff," she greets.

"Hi." All her composed speech went out of her head as she saw Hill's bruises and cuts and winces.

"Yeah, it looks worse than it is though. Still complaining about your knocking into the railing then, Romanoff?" Hill sits up.

Natasha places the flowers at the bedside table and sits down.

"Thanks for covering for me. Sorry for, you know, disobeying your orders."

Hill stares at her with inscrutable blue eyes.

Natasha forces herself to look back into them.

"You know, you're not so bad after all, Romanoff," Hill offers.

Natasha smirks.

"You're not so bad yourself, Hill. And, I saw you. Afghanistan, 2005, Alfonso Murray. I'm sorry I couldn't save you and your team," Natasha quietly says.

"It's... okay. We didn't expect it. I should thank you for not killing me, I suppose."

"The past has a way to come back to us, especially if we repress it," Natasha shrugs.

"Woah, going all Socrates on me now huh, Romanoff."

"Definitely not a philosopher. How is being a philosopher even a job though, was Socrates sipping wine on a balcony somewhere drunkenly slurring shit like 'to find yourself, think for yourself' with a crowd underneath him screaming shit like 'fuck yes Socrates another banger this man just will not miss'?" (okay, I'll admit, this was stolen from twitter)

Hill suddenly laughs. It's a beautiful sound, Natasha realises. Unlike her powerful bull-like snort, unlike her derisive laughter she gave to people who annoyed her.

It's bright and melodious.

"You know what Romanoff, you're actually pretty damn funny sometimes, you know that?"

"Pretty or funny?" Natasha teases as she sets her feet up onto the bedside table.

"I'd say both," Hill replies, smirking.

"It is very important that I am both cute and powerful," Natasha very seriously says.

"I don't think anyone has ever called you adorable and lived to tell the tale," Hill says.

"You're a jackass, you know that?"

"Better than Hardass Hill, I suppose."

"That was courtesy of Clint, Sharon and a rookie team of tech staff who came up with that. Although, you do have a nice six, if I do say so myself," Natasha flirts absent mindedly.

Hill rolls her eyes.

"Have you looked into a mirror Romanoff?"

"Ah yes, your eyes, are so clear and electrfyingly blue, they're the ocean. Your ass, uhm, is also the ocean?" Natasha tries.

Hill laughs again, and goddamn it, Natasha should seriously do this more often if she gets to hear that beautiful sound.

"You need some help in poetry, Romanoff. Who knew Black Widow had such terrible flirting attempts?"

"Only for you, Commander," Natasha flirts back and gives her a sultry glance.

Hill shakes her head.

"You're going to be the death of me, Natasha Romanoff."

Natasha decides she likes the way Hill says her name.

2006, date redacted

"I talked to her, she's nice apparently. Was she high on the drugs though? I don't think so. But she laughed, Barton. She fucking laughed and I never thought she was capable of such things," Natasha says.

Barton was staring at her.

"What?"

"Nothing," he says and grins.

"Spit it out."

"You got a crush on Hill, Tasha?" Barton teases.

"No, we flirted a bit, but everything's basically normal," Natasha shrugs.

Barton's jaw goes slack.

"Oh my god, you have it for Hill, she has it for you. She has never flirted with anyone before, not even Sharon. The last time someone did he was kicked off the Helicarrier without a parachute!"

"You mean you were, and she threw one down at you afterwards," Natasha corrects.

"Semantics. Besides, Hill's a raging lesbian, according to Sharon. A useless one too, when she's off duty and not all Commander-y."

"Lesbian?"

"It means she likes women only."

"Huh, interesting. But Hill and I are only co workers, nothing more."

"You made a crappy poem about her eyes and her ass, Tasha."

"That was... that was just teasing. And it wasn't too bad!"

Barton raises an eyebrow at her.

"Okay, it was shit, but she's just lying there and laughing and she's nothing like the Commander Hill who chewed me out for going against her, she's just... Maria Hill, I suppose. It was nothing."

"Suit yourself, Tasha. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Natasha whacks him with file she conjured from the bedside table.


	18. Chapter 18

2006, date redacted

"Wheel of Fortune, we should so do that Sharon, oh my god," Clint sighs.

"Actually, I have one in my quarters. Leftovers from playing spin the wheel from a few months ago. This idea is great, we should so do this," Sharon excitedly says.

"Please don't kill any of us," Natasha comments.

"Killing, who's killing who today, I swear if you put laxatives in someone's coffee Sharon," Maria Hill grumbles as she sits down.

"Hill, great to see you've finally decided to grace us with your presence. Feeling the Christmas spirit huh?"

"Actually, Phil threatened Fury into giving me shore leave for the week. What in ever loving fuck am I going to do for the next week, this is going to be the worst one week in my life, and I've taken care of Sharon and Melinda when drunk and hungover," Maria grumbles.

"How dare you, you nearly dropped us onto the sidewalk, you're one to talk," Sharon huffs.

"Melinda though, this is something I have to hear. She and Tasha have way too much dirt on me and I don't much on them, I need the tea," Clint eggs on.

"Sworn to secrecy, solidarity of sisterhood and all that," Maria smirks, making a zipping gesture and locking her lips.

"Anyways, Clint and I have decided to implement a wheel of fortune for us. Wherever it lands on, we'll go. I'm not visiting Aunt Peggy for Christmas this year, I'll visit her for New Year's though. Clint, you going anywhere?"

"Yeah, got a girlfriend."

Natasha's eyes widen as she cuffs Clint's head.

"You have a girlfriend? Spill now, I need to know everything, how did I not know this?"

"Ow, jesus christ woman, its not in the files. Its private, and she was an ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. agent intern for a year. Its kind of where we met, at S.H.I.E.L.D. you know."

"You two knew, I'm feeling betrayed here," Natasha points at Maria and Sharon and fake pouts.

"Oops," Sharon shrugs, grinning.

"What happened to super spy?" Maria teases.

"I have been compromised," Natasha grumbles, kicking her legs onto the table as Maria squawks in protest and pushes her booted feet off.

"Well, Clint and I are gonna go set up the wheel of fortune, don't you dare run off without us."

"Nowhere to head to, Sharon. This thing is still in the air," Maria dryly replies.

"I hope you know she's giving you the finger," Natasha helpfully informs.

"Fucking immature, can't believe we're friends with these people," Maria lowers her voice into a conspirational whisper.

"You should see Clint after one of our movie marathons. Passed out in popcorn, soda and chocolate syrup."

Maria wrinkles her nose.

"Ew."

Natasha swipes off a bit of maple syrup from her waffle and lightly taps Maria's still scrunched up nose with it, smirking.

Maria looks shocked, but recovers quickly.

"Oh its so on Romanoff," she growls and flicks a little ice cube at Natasha who dodges.

"You're adorable with maple syrup dripping off your nose, cutie," Natasha taunts as Maria continues flicking ice cubes at her while hastily scrubbing the syrup off with tissue.

"You wasted maple syrup, Natasha, how could you, and I'm not adorable, don't call me that," Maria complains as she throws the tissue over her head into a nearby trash can.

"You're adorable, a baby, we need to wrap you in soft blankets and feed you cinnamon rolls, tiny baby," Natasha cooes at Maria as Maria hmphs.

Without warning, Maria grabs Natasha's shirt and throws a few ice cubes down there and Natasha scowls.

"Maria," she whines as she shakes out the cubes.

"Payback," Maria smirks and looks so adorably proud of herself that Natasha just smiles.

Oh fuck. Fuck. She really had it for this woman, didn't she?

Keep calm, you're the Black Widow, its just a minor infatuation. You'll get over it.

"As fun as this is, we should go check up on Sharon and Clint. Who knows what they're going to do now, thank god Melinda doesn't prank anymore, when they did it was apparently legendary," Maria shudders.

"We better head out, to Clint's quarters it is!" Natasha yells and in one swift motion leaps onto Maria's back.

"Fuck- Natasha!" Maria yells as she barely manages to catch the red head.

"Let's go Maria, scare some rookies along the way with our killer glares. Most of them are sleeping in anyways, since they're technically on leave. Besides, its 0500 in the morning, barely anyone's awake after you nearly killed them with your impromptu 0100 emergency drill," Natasha points out as she wraps her arms and legs securely around Maria's back.

"Yeah yeah. Lets go, Agent Romanoff, we have a mission do-not-let-the-children-screw-up."

Natasha laughs and settles her chin onto Maria's shoulder.

She misses the hitch in Maria's breath.


	19. Chapter 19

2006, 24 December

They went to Disneyland. Fucking Disneyland. Oh gods, Madame B had to be writhing in her grave now, Natasha muses, as she sits in between Clint and Maria as Sharon wildly spins the damn teacup.

Maria was laughing, head leaning on Natasha's shoulder. The warmth spreads from the spot of contact through her entire body. Okay, maybe Clint was right. She had a crush on Maria fucking Hill, a literal goddess. But she was not built for love, she had to remember that.

Natasha can't help but sneak in photos of them though, Sharon's hair spinning wildly, Clint screeching, Maria looking content and Natasha grinning.

Natasha helps Clint off the teacup, seeing how pale he suddenly looked.

2006, 24 December

They share burgers and drinks within the four of them as they cool down from the roller coaster.

"Clint was screaming so loudly," Sharon was saying.

"How do you two not scream?" Clint asks Maria and Natasha in disbelief.

"There's really nothing scary about a roller coaster Clint," Natasha replies, amused.

"I once saw this video about how someone tore her vocal chords screaming too much. Scarred me for life, its natural to not scream anymore," Maria admits reaching over to Natasha and stealing a bite of her burger.

"Dark, lighten the fuck up Hill, I'd throw a lamp at you but I don't have one," Sharon says as she sips on her hot chocolate.

A few pieces of white land on Maria's hair.

"It's snowing, oh my god," Sharon says.

Natasha reaches out on impulse and brushes the white flakes off Maria's hair.

Maria smiles. Its goofy, its soft, its so _Maria-like_ that it ached.

Shit. She needed to get herself in control, but she was so thoroughly compromised when it came to Maria Hill it was unfair and scary.

Natasha snaps pictures of the next few minutes. There's snowball fights, her and Clint against Sharon and Maria. There's tackling Maria into the snow and laughing and making snow angels as the snow got heavier. All around, there's children screaming in delight and parents with tired but loving smiles on their faces.

The Disneyland staff, looking exhausted, brightened up considerably too.

Natasha sees Maria shiver suddenly and she forces Maria to take a break and drink the rest of the hot chocolate to warm up.

Sharon and Clint come back to the bench too, noses and cheeks tinged pinkish-red, laughing and carefree.

"Maria is a baby, she needs some coddling and warming up," Natasha says, grinning at Maria's pout but not pout.

"You lived in freaking Canada for a few years, Maria, how did you survive during the winter?" Clint asks but helps to throw away the trash to pack up and head to their hotel room.

"Under the blankets, shivering and stealing some of dear old dad's beer to keep me warm. We did move back to America later though, seems like dad hated the cold too," Maria says.

"Underage drinking, Hill? Tsk tsk," Natasha chides, but takes Maria's hands and shoves them into her parka pocket to help warm her freezing fingers up. Idiotic girl, not wearing gloves during this weather.

"Hey, it was just a sip or two," Maria argues.

"Yeah yeah. Clint, got the things? Lets go before Maria becomes the real Ice Queen she's known for, hmm?"

2006, 24 December

Clint claims the top bunk of the bunk bed and Sharon immediately yells dibs on the bottom bunk. 

Natasha rolls her eyes.

"Come on, we're gonna have to share the king bed. I call dibs on the side near the window, I want to take some nice pictures," Natasha says to Maria, who sends Sharon a glare but smiles and heads back with Natasha, dumping her bag onto the table.

"Go undress and hop into the shower, Maria. You'll feel less cold," Natasha chides.

"We should blast some Christmas music, watch a few cheesy Christmas movies," Clint suggests.

"Oh yes, we should, we'll get this party started while our icicle warms up," Sharon laughs as Maria pouts again.

"Naaaat, they're being mean," Maria fake whines.

Natasha's breath hitches. Nat. Her name sounded perfect when Maria said it.

"You're a baby icicle, she's a precious bean right?" Natasha chooses to say instead. She can do teasing, taunting, anger, but her crush was getting ridiculous.

Maria hmphs as she grabs some clothes and hops into the shower.

"Lets get this bread!" Clint whoops as Natasha laughs and Sharon puts on some music from her phone.

Natasha films Clint and Sharon as they belt out lyrics.

"Someone get me a towel, they're in the closet but I forgot, damn it," Maria's head poke out of the bathroom as she yells from Clint and Sharon's part of the suite with a separating door between them.

Seeing how Clint and Sharon were still busy singing loudly and off key, Natasha took pity on Maria and handed her a towel, ignoring the way water cascaded down her face, jaw, neck, to her body and legs. Definitely not staring as Maria smiles and thanks her.

Natasha clears her throat in slight embarrassment as she blushes lightly.

Maria was so fucking _beautiful_ and _perfect_ it genuinely hurts.

Natasha's can't have these thoughts, she can't think about how Maria would feel under her, how it would feel to have Maria's eyes staring into her like she was seeing into her soul.

Natasha gives a stiff nod and heads back.

2006, 25 December

They watched Christmas movies together once everyone was done showering.

Natasha was lying on her side of the bed while Clint was squished between Sharon and Maria.

They were watching Home Alone as they sipped on more hot chocolate Sharon had run downstairs to buy and eating churros.

Clint soon fell asleep, of course he did. Clint oomphed as Natasha removed her quickly numbing leg from under him, causing him to wake up from his light doze.

"Alright kids, time to head to bed, we have to sleep or Santa isn't coming," Sharon grins as the movie credits roll out.

"Looks like Hill already fell asleep," Clint says as the trio zero in on a lightly snoring Maria.

"Eh, she deserves to get some sleep with how much shit she deals with as Deputy. Good night Natasha, come on Clint, leave the two alone, they won't kill anyone," Sharon says and drags the covers over Maria as Maria sleepily shifts.

The sliding door separating the bunk bed and the king bed closed gently.

Natasha undresses and slides into the bed under the covers. Okay Natasha, no worries, you die like a lesbian. Okay, do not freak out.

Holy shit, Maria Hill is in bed with her. It meant absolutely nothing of course, they were just friends, just co workers, but holy shit.

Natasha's mini freak out was interrupted by a leg thrown over her. Apparently, sleeping Maria was cuddly. 

That woman was soft and perfect, oh my god.

Impulsively, Natasha reaches over to stroke Maria's soft brown hair that framed her head like an angel's halo.

Maria sleepily nuzzles into the touch, tiny smile appearing on her face.

Natasha, emboldened, moves her hands down to cup Maria's neck and strokes her beautiful jawline with her thumb.

Holy shit. 

Natasha lies awake for the next hour or so until she finally relaxes and falls into a deeper and restful slumber that she never had before.

-

sorry i was listening to girl in red and i got the feels so you get blackhill fluff today


	20. Chapter 20

2006, 25 December

Maria wakes up, rubbing her eyes at the sunlight flooding in.

There's a familiar weight on her and something tickling her chin.

Holy compromising position. 

Maria nearly screams as the tiny red head currently _cuddled_ and wrapped around her stirred.

She too, wakes up, sees Maria's wide blue eyes and freezes.

"Hi," she murmurs faintly as she takes in their position and distangles herself from Maria, blushing furiously.

Holy shit. 

"Sorry, I'll just, go to the bathroom," Natasha mumbles and flees to the bathroom at the other side of the hotel room, leaving Maria, head whirling.

Did she do anything? Stop, Hill. Think. Do not be a useless lesbian, goddamn Sharon for forcing them to share a bed. 

But it felt amazing. Nat's soft figure curled up into her, they fit so perfectly, like missing pieces, two halves of a whole. 

Nat's panic kind of hurt, Maria was not going to lie. But she's her superior, she cannot do this, she cannot be compromised because of her stupid crush- 

Fuck, she had a crush on Natasha Romanoff, superspy and crazy Russian assassin who liked her coffee slightly sweetened, who enjoyed watching cartoons, who was so adorably awkward when it came to being open and expressing herself.

This had to be stamped down, they could not, would not, go down this road. No matter how fucking beautiful Natasha looked dressed in a simple hoodie and boxer shorts.

She was not going down this road, Maria Hill is a professional. 

Maria let loose a breath and went to collect clothes to change into once Natasha was done in the bathroom. She would be returning to her apartment for the next couple of days until she was needed at the Triskelion again. Clint would be going to visit Laura while Sharon would be going to visit Peggy Carter, where would Natasha go?

Natasha would deal with it. She's a trained superspy, she'd be okay. She'd be okay. No need to worry, of course, the worry was all a professional kind, how a superior officer would worry for a subordinate's wellbeing.

Shoving out all thoughts of the redhead, she begun to pack up.

2006, 25 December

Clint and Sharon were already downstairs eating breakfast, they had apparently left half an hour ago. Natasha groans as she sits on the toilet seat and slowly wakes up. 

She was cuddling the Deputy Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. 

Most of all, was how nice it felt. Natasha would never have done that, her infatuation was getting out of control.

No worries, they were professionals. She would deal with this. She had to. Natasha Romanoff did not do love, nor relationships.

How far your mind wanders, that stupid voice in her head whispers.

Natasha growls and gets up. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Natasha Romanoff. Pathetic. Is this how you will die, death by a pretty woman? 

No, that would not do. Natasha counts 4 bars before she pulls herself together, gets up and gets ready. 

She'd be going to Budapest in Hungary. She had a safehouse there. She needs to be alone, she needs to think. She needs to collect herself again, return to her roots, where Red Room all started. She needed to remind herself why she defected to S.H.I.E.L.D., to wipe her ledger. 

Natasha finishes brushing out her hair and sweeps it into a neat bun, shoving pins in more roughly than necessary. Pain, it grounded her. Reminded her of what could happen if she misstepped. 

Natasha plugs in her earphones and does her makeup as she listens to songs that she had deemed nice or suitable. She uses the bathtub to stretch out her muscles, doing oversplits and a few fouettes. 

Natasha clutches the sink before collecting herself and heading back to the bedroom to pack up.

Neither she nor Maria said a word, Natasha grateful that she too had chosen to forget this little encounter. They were both professionals, it was what made them a good team, she supposed.

There she goes again, wandering off. 

She's the Deputy Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Natasha is an assassin who recently defected to S.H.I.E.L.D., this would not work, not in one out of a million. Besides, love is for children. 

_Do it, Natalia, you are a Black Widow, you do not fall in love. Kill Alexei Shostakov and you will be freed._

_Natalia lines up her shot and pulls the trigger._

_She does not love, no one will break your heart if you do not have one._

_"You see, devochka, your first love isn't the first person you give your heart to," someone had whispered to her once,"it's the first one to break it"._

_"I don't have a heart," she had replied and the old woman at the bar had chuckled._

_"Everyone has a heart, my girl, it just takes a special someone, your Fated, to open it, to solve the mystery of it."_

_"I don't believe in fate as much as I believe in my own two hands and eyes," Natalia had stiffly replied. Was this a test from Madame?_

_"Oh, but it does have odd ways of coming back to us, doesn't it?"_

Natasha, breathe. One two three four five six seven eight.

Two two three four five six seven eight.

Three two three four five six seven eight.

Four two three four five six seven eight. 

She had to go back. This was a mistake, she should not have signed herself away to S.H.I.E.L.D. This was a mistake, she had never truly loved before, not even Alexei who she had seen being lowered into a grave because the Father of Red Room shot him. What if she was programmed to do this, re-programmed to gets silly crushes and become more human, what if what if?

Natasha hears Maria pulling on clothes in the bathroom. What if, what if?

She can't do this, she has to go. She's going back to Budapest, she needs to think. She's going to find the Father of Red Room, she's going to need some time to uncompromise herself, to just sit and think with her head and not her heart.

" _S.H.I.E.L.D. does not serve, it protects those who need protecting. You will find, Romanova, that within these walls, trust is necessary." Fury had claimed._

She cannot fit into the mold of a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, it goes against her very nature. She cannot, she simply cannot. That's probably why she was so intriuged by S.H.I.E.L.D. in the first place, the most untouchable things were the most fascinating.

Natasha grabs her bag, shoves her things in. She stops. She places the Mickey Mouse headband Clint had bought for her as a joke and early Christmas present into Clint's bag. 

She scribbles a hasty note informing him that she was going to Budapest to do something, reminded him to not get run over by a car trying to chase a dog to pet it and tosses a pack of candy into there too. 

Friends share food with each other, friends trust one another.

Natasha is friends with Clint, but its all for show, right?

Definitely, she silently agrees as she checks if the coast is clear and runs.


	21. Chapter 21

2006, date redacted

Natasha quietly slips into the small house in the outskirts of a town in Budapest.

"Have you come to kill me, Natalia?"

Natasha leans against the doorway as she sees Ivan Petrovich sipping some vodka, as cliche as it was. Or maybe he just liked vodka.

"Hello Father," Natasha greets.

"Ah, you're playing the long game, it seems. In that case, come, sit down, have a chat, shan't we?"

Natasha scans the room, deeming it passable and sliding into a chair in front of Ivan.

He was in his 50s or 60s already, greying, still as stick thin as ever. 

"I see America has been treating you well, my daughter. What brings you to me again?"

"I thought Red Room, Madame, they, I thought they were the ones who programmed me."

"That is right, I was merely there to oversee. The world is changing, Natalia, we must, as spies, change with it. I like your new hairstyle, suits you," Ivan casually says, like they're chatting about the weather.

"I need to know, did they program me to not, to not love? To not trust, to not be normal unless its for a cover?"

Ivan takes a long sip of his vodka and sighs.

"Ah, I see what troubles you. You have always been such a pretty young devochka, you've grown into a wonderful woman, have you not? You are plagued by your sins. Tell me about your new dame, or new foolish man."

"She's pretty. She's professional, she's beautiful, she's fascinating and I don't understand her nor what's happening to me," Natasha quietly admits.

Ivan tilts his head.

"My my daughter, quite the young lady you got there, yes, quite the darling. Maria, such a beautiful name for a stunning woman. She's a gem, a diamond, is she not? You are scared, you want her so much you fear. Whatever you touch turns to ashes and dust, does it not?"

"I just need you to tell me, am I capable of loving her? Will she love me back?"

"Tell me this, Natalia. Do you believe in childhood dreams? Of fairy tales and princesses being rescued by princes? Of souls, of fate, of how the sound of music can bring tears to an audience, can bring joy, pure, undulated joy, bright and bursting and sunlight, to one? Do you believe in soulmates, in love, in a happily ever after?"

"Black Widow's story is not one of happily ever afters, it is one born of blood and war and the chill of the harshest Russian winters, you know that most of all Ivan, it is why you were built. You're an AI in a body, preserved. You hold the answers that one will never think of. You hold the keys to locks we have never discovered."

"My child, you are so devastatingly correct. I am merely an android, I cannot help you with matters of the heart. Whether or not you can or cannot love, it is entirely up to you. Tell me, Natalia, little flame, have you ever, ever, loved someone so much it hurts? Wanted to engrave his or her name into your heart like it was a journal of your thousands and thousands of pages worth of memories together, yet not be able to express how much you wanted and loved and truly, truly, needed your other? Hmm?"

"Nyet, Papa," Natasha whispers.

Ivan gives a sad smile.

"You're carrying the weight of the universe on your back, Natalia. So many souls, lives you have taken, they all lie on you, they are tied to you with thin, invisible strings called fabric of time and space. Someday, my daughter, you will repay the price, free each and every one of those souls. When that day comes, promise me, child, you will not run from it in fear and misery, you will march up to it, say 'it is okay', and fall into the void with no sad feelings. Love, my child, can empower, the same way anger and devastation can. Do not let your emotions drag you down, Natalia. Use them, hone them, forge them, weave you web, little spider."

Natasha nods slightly as she stares off into space.

"I cannot say for certain that it will be easy, but I think all the pain, all the suffering, it will be worth it to at least see the flower bloom and listen to the sounds of the ocean and its waves, da?"

Natasha smiles sadly at Ivan, a man who was not a man, a father who could not hold his daughters, a servant of the Red Room, lost, yet anchored to the world. There is a kind of loneliness that is necessary to become a legend, to become the best of the best. When you have climbed, fought and killed to reach the top of the world, where it was beautiful yet oh so lonely, what was next? There was nowhere else to go. 

"Thank you Father, I'm sorry I can't help you, but I can ease your own pain and heartache for some time before someone finds you and re assembles you."

Ivan hums.

"Ah, but that is always the way it has been, is it not? We are here to serve. You and me, pawns of gods and goddesses playing with mortals and drunk on power. I hope we meet again in our next lives, Natalia, and I wish you and your fated a path of chrysanthemums and lilies."

Natasha reaches out, gently uses a knife to remove Ivan's head piece before taking out a few vital wires and batteries, his heart.

Ivan splutters and eventually the noises die out as he slumps forward on the table.

Natasha presses a small kiss to the piece before replacing it and disappearing. 


	22. Chapter 22

2006, 30 December

Natasha roams the streets of New York. She doesn't want to barge in on anyone's New Year celebrations, everyone had their own family, but Natasha was a lone wolf. She had no family, she had no one but herself. 

She passes by the Triskelion and stares up at the building. It's evening already, the sun painting the sky shades of pink and orange. Snow slowly drifts around and Natasha stiffens slightly as she remembers the snowball fight she had with Maria, Clint and Sharon.

Friends. That's what they've become, perhaps Maria more. 

But to see Maria's absolute look of panic, then horror, then shame in the morning, it was too much. 

Natasha thinks she understands Ivan slightly now. Her first love, first crush, first woman as Natasha, may have managed to worm her way into Natasha's newfound heart.

S.H.I.E.L.D. technically has no policies about fraternisation between a superior and junior as long as they weren't on the same team. 

Would Maria Hill love her back though?

Natasha scoffs. Look at her, the Black Widow, like a teenager falling in love in some cheesy high school rom-com. Pathetic.

Woman up, Romanoff. You're the Black Widow, you don't need another person to make you complete.

Natasha turns away from the Triskelion and heads back to her apartment.

2006, date redacted

"Shit, shit, shit," Maria hisses.

"Sharon, I messed up, fuck," Maria groans as she lies upside down on the couch and Sharon sympathetically pats her.

"There, there. You didn't, Romanoff just needs time, that's all. Sorry for making you two share a bed. Anyways, she should be safe, she told Clint she's going to Budapest to deal with something, probably Red Room. When she comes back, just make up to her. Talk to her, Maria. Don't be a wimp, Commander. If she has no interest, then I guess we'll figure something out, get drunk until we pass out and act like you usually would, all Ice Queen and shit."

"But I screwed up, Shar, fuck. I can't believe this, first woman I've even remotely liked after years and I can't talk to her or even do anything around her. I'm so fucking compromised, Sharon. Natasha clearly doesn't want anything between us, it was a mistake, heck, I'm lucky to even have seen her with anything other than killer eyes. Shit, she's going to kill me, isn't she?"

"Calm down you useless lesbian," Sharon snaps, hitting Maria with a cushion.

"How can I calm down, Sharon? I fucked up, that's it. Okay, I'll just be professional around her, that's it. That's all. We're hopefully going to remain friends, and that's okay. That's all we will be, strictly professional and work ready."

Maria takes a few deep breaths before righting herself to a sitting position.

"You two are the most dysfunctional people I've ever met," Sharon cries out, exasperated.

"If she doesn't want anything, I'm not going to force her, I'm not going to cry over her either. I've been through worse than a little crush, its nothing," Maria shrugs.

"I'll be here when you decide to get your head out of your ass," Sharon sighs, grabbing her bag and packing.

"Yeah, you go to Aunt Peggy's, she's probably fussing over where her favourite niece is," Maria calls back.

"Don't die, Hill!" Sharon yells as Maria flashes her a thumbs up before groaning.

Fuck, her life was in a mess. Nick Fury, that damn bastard, blocked all her access codes to her work. He also blocked Sharon's, and Natasha's, and Clint's, and Coulson's, and Melinda's. What was she going to do now?

Get drunk, drown her sorrows, it seems. Besides, she'll have a self care day, alcohol and Netflix and takeout. Perfect. 

Maria shuts her curtains and ignores the huge count down going on for the New Year.

It's just a goddamn change in date, jesus.

Fuck, she was cranky today. 

Maria orders her takeout as she settles into her comfy couch.

"Well, you're my partner for the New Year again, it seems," Maria tells her couch.

"Oh my god, I'm going crazy," Maria sighs.

2006, 30 December

Natasha makes a decision. As much as she did not want to talk to Maria from sheer embarrassment and because she would probably kiss her, Natasha still valued their friendship. It was new, but she stupidly trusted in the woman. Besides, Maria had no plans. And Natasha had none either.

Natasha hacks into S.H.I.E.L.D. and finds Maria's address. It was just down a few streets, thank god.

Natasha drops by her apartment to get a bottle of wine before heading down.

As Natasha rounds the corner, she hesitates.

Should she seriously be doing this? 

Whatever, if she accidentally pissed Maria off, she could always burn off her fingerprints, steal a space shuttle and live on the moon.

Or, Maria would kill her. Death method one, chopstick slammed into carotid. Death method two, cyanide milkshake. Death method three, death via kicking off Helicarrier into the ocean or something. Death method four, death by staring into her enwitching blue eyes for too long. 

Natasha was well on her way to death method number 239 when she reached Maria's apartment.

Natasha carefully listens. Looks like she's watching a movie. 

Natasha slips in through her bedroom window. Maria might ignore the doorbell, or she might just slam the door in Natasha's face.

Natasha just takes a moment to see a relaxed Maria Hill, chilling in a soft sweater and flannel shirt and sweatpants as she drinks and eats.

Then, Maria tenses and there's a gun pointed straight at the area near where she was standing.

Natasha comes out from the shadows as Maria swears and lowers her gun.

"Romanoff. Where did you even get my- you know what, I don't really want to report you for whatever you did. Is there a dead body we need to get rid of?"

"I wanted to, uhm," Natasha blushes as she fumbles. Get it together Romanoff!

"I thought we could hang out. I don't have any plans, unless you do, then I'll leave."

"No, its fine, come on, make yourself comfortable. And next time, Nat, please don't give me a heart attack and break in. I have a door for a reason, its a very useful invention."

"You jackass," Natasha grumbles but offers a small smile and settles down beside Maria.

"Have you had dinner? I think I have some pre-made pizza in the fridge, you could go microwave it if you're hungry," Maria rambles as Natasha clambers beside her.

"Maybe later, I'm not too hungry. Look, about Disneyland-"

"Sorry about that, by the way. I guess you're a good pillow. Not that you are, you could probably stab me with a fork and I wouldn't have time to react, but I'm sorry if I crossed any boundaries. I'd like to remain friends with you, if that's okay," Maria awkwardly smiles, looking so dorky and beautiful that Natasha's breath hitches.

Maria wanted to remain friends. That was okay. Totally okay. Even though she wanted to curl up in self pity and never appear ever again. 

There's a feeling of falling endlessly as Natasha offers another fake smile and nods.

"Okay, good." Natasha simply says as they turn back to the movie.

"What are you watching?" Natasha asks, turning her attention to the tv. Compartmentalisation, keep that part of her locked away forever until she died.

"F.R.I.E.N.D.S. marathon. It's mad, ten seasons. Have you watched it before?"

"No, but it seems okay so far I guess," Natasha hums as she accepts the glass Maria poured her.

No need to fret, Natasha. You will not let some rejection bring you down, it takes more than that to bring a Black Widow to her knees.


	23. Chapter 23

2006, 31 December

Natasha has to admit, even staying friends with Maria was nice. Just being around her, generally, was nice. 

Maria laughs as something funny was being said. Natasha wasn't really paying attention to the show, she was blatantly staring at Maria. Imprinting her into her memory. The way she laughed so hard she bent over, her sweater covering most of her ~~adorable~~ , her lips curving upward, relaxed, not glaring for once, soft brown hair falling around her face, framing her face and that ~~beautifully sharp~~ jawline. How her warm feet felt against Natasha's legs as Maria propped her legs up on Natasha's lap halfway through their night.

This is Maria Hill, not Commander Hill. She's absolutely beautiful and perfect. Natasha feels the sudden urge to just hug Maria and stay like that forever. 

She wants to touch her, but not like this. Not like how Maria wanted her. 

Maria's a freaking angel from heaven, and Natasha's not going to taint her pristine white wings with her evil. 

Natasha notices the countdown outside of the apartment. There's about thirty seconds to the New Year. Natasha had never been one for these celebrations, most times on New Year she would be lying on her bed, hand cuffed to the bed post, living in fear, trying to get ten minute naps or meditations in for rest.

Natasha's come far, Natasha realises. Natalia deserved a proper funeral a burial. What better time to do it than now?

Natasha glances at Maria's pretty blue eyes again. How can someone have such intense eyes that shone with different shades of blue, turqoise, teal, opal, cornflower?

Ten seconds. Now or never, Romanoff.

"Maria," she says.

"Hmm?" Maria shifts her focus on Natasha.

Five. Four, three two-

"Happy New Year Masha," Natasha smiles.

"Happy New Year Nat," Maria replies and grins back.

It's a new start. Natasha's going to work on shedding her crush on Maria this year. Even though she still gets butterflies in her stomach when Maria looks at her with a kind of charged intensity. Or when Maria says 'Nat'. No one's ever called her that before. She supposes friends call each other nicknames, but she's never been the most creative with names, so she'll just call her Masha. Maria's soft smile when she says that is worth it, worth all the pain, worth all the suffering. 

_I cannot say for certain that it will be easy, but I think all the pain, all the suffering, it will be worth it to at least see the flower bloom and listen to the sounds of the ocean and its waves, da?_

Da, papochka. (yes, father)

Da, Natasha silently says as she absentmindedly strokes Maria's legs and Maria lets out a contented sigh and buries herself into the cushion.

2006, date redacted

Sasha finishes her dance and runs off the stage. She'll have to go for the curtain bow soon. The show was a success. 

"Delivery for Miss Alexandra Levedeva?"

"Sasha, did you order something?" Her friend, Anna, whispers.

"Nyet," Alexandra replies, as she scans the delivery woman who actually should not have been able to come backstage.

Her brown eyes flare as Alexandra scans her.

"Excuse me, I'll be back for the curtain bow," Alexandra excuses herself.

The delivery woman melts back into the shadows as Alexandra follows.

"Aliya," Alexandra greets.

"Hello sestra, looks like you've made a name for yourself, you're everywhere in the ballet community," Aliya greets.

"What are you going to do, and what's in the box?" Alexandra asks.

"Natalia, or Black Widow, is still at large. She has betrayed us, she will pay the price, but not today. The world is against us, Sasha. Play the pretty ballerina all you want, but sooner or later someone is going to figure out, and they are going to come for you. Red Room has many enemies, they are already coming upon hearing about the fall of Red Room. Luckily, there's something that can help us."

Alexandra raises an eyebrow. 

"We need to paint a target, make a scapegoat so the rest of us at least, will be safe," Aliya explains.

Alexandra takes in the bright red hair she has dyed and the bracelets around her wrist.

"Natalia, you're going to frame her," Alexandra realises.

"I've gotten this nifty relic, HYDRA affiliated, to help us. I would have asked Nadia, but she is no longer with us, sadly. She activated her own killswitch. There were once hundreds of Red Room students. Now, there's only about 40 of us left, and only 28 of them have graduated. Including you, me and Natalia. We must ensure our survival. As long as we do this fast, we will be safe. Take a few days to think about it, then contact me. Father has disappeared, this is no coincidence, Natalia must have done something. Madames dead, buildings collapsed, intel leaked. Natalia is leaving a trail fo destruction, we are in its wake."

"I'm in," Alexandra decides.

Aliya simply nods.

'Welcome aboard, Swan Widow."

"Pleasure to meet you, Rieka Widow." 


	24. Chapter 24

2007, date redacted

Natasha goes back to work. She works out, she goes on missions with Clint and the rest of STRIKE Team Delta. Soon enough, two of the six agents are promoted to STRIKE Team Chi, the other two to STRIKE Team Gamma. Now, STRIKE Team Delta is only made up of Clint and Natasha.

Natasha is inexplicably proud. She and Clint stalk around, like birds looking for their prey, a spider weaving her web. 

Natasha rarely sees Maria nowadays, her being busy with dealing with WSC and Congress recently. Sharon was also helping bridge CIA and S.H.I.E.L.D. relationships by going on a few missions with them. 

So, she hangs out with Clint. She doesn't hold back as much as before, and Clint has learnt the tricks she uses most often, he improves. Natasha is slightly impressed.

She also gets close to Coulson. He's nice, reliable, stable. He has this kind of soothing and calm quality about him.

"Next mission is in Hungary. Intel retrieval and also infiltration. There's a certain product we have to recover, its called 'The Web'," Coulson briefs.

Natasha blinks.

"Sources say its in Budapest. There's this little organisation going on. About ten, we can't tell for sure. Judging from their track covering, they're experienced and professional. Go in, poke around, retrieve, and get out of there. It'll take about a month, estimated. Backup agent will be Melinda May, more information can be found in the relevant files," Phil explains.

"We got this Sir," Clint says.

"Sir, what is 'The Web'?" Natasha asks.

"Hacking device. Able to infiltrate into any digital device, track digital trails and fingerprints, capable of retracing and retrieving deleted and completely destroyed or even heavily redacted files. Origins unknown."

Natasha mentally swears. She should not have left it in Ivan's, but she was sloppy. Overcome with emotion and no release. Sentimental. 

These things got you killed. If she and Clint got injured, it would be her fault. She would complete the mission flawlessly and recover 'The Web'.

2007, date redacted

Natasha and Clint scout the area and Natasha gives the all-clear signal (a sneeze, then bending down to adjust the straps of her sneakers).

Clint replies, a shake of his leg and running his fingers through his hair.

Good, time for part 2.

They had managed to recover the necessary information and track the weapon to this vicinity.

Natasha gets up from the park bench and head to the nearby cafe, their meeting point.

Natasha orders a coffee, black and strong, before settling down into a corner seat at the back of the cafe, away from the entrance with glass windows and near the pantry with the exits.

Soon after, Clint enters, buys a cake and sits in another corner seat.

Natasha sniffs and takes a sip of her coffee. It might be poisoned, one may never be too careful. 

For this mission, Natasha's used a blond wig with a short bob, black tips at the end.

Her makeup is natural style, she's wearing a crop sweater hiding numerous knives underneath. Her pencil skirt is loose and slightly flowy at the end, hiding her two glocks.

She scans the exits and the surroundings again.

She surreptiously activates the comm, pressing the ring on her finger where a button was cleverly hidden as a gemstone.

"Any activity? Widow out."

"None, we'll head back first, Hawkeye out."

The next fifteen minutes consists of Natasha calmly sipping her coffee while she whips out her phone and pretends to do some work, when she's actually reviewing the compiled file. 

This mission was proving particularly tricky, but she's the Black Widow, she never fails a mission. 

Clint had been gone for about five minutes already, she'll risk it and leave a minute earlier. Besides, she's finished her coffee.

Natasha gathers her things for her cover and leaves. 


	25. Chapter 25

2007, date redacted

"Clowns share bicycles," Natasha taps on the door.

"Elephants don't like that," Clint taps back before the door unlocks and opens.

"Got nothing on Site 8. Yours?" Natasha asks, immediately sliding in and shutting the door, locking it.

"Nothing on Site 9 and 10. We'll move on to 11 and 12 tomorrow, its quite late in the afternoon already. We'll have to do more goddamn paperwork," Clint grumbles.

"Turn on the tv, Clint. I want to know the news," Natasha says as she removes her wig.

Clint obeys and switches to the news channel.

"This is just in, there has been a murder case at 21st street in Cinkota, Budapest, Hungary. At 1400 hours today, civillians called the local police for 'screams to be heard coming from an abandoned clock tower'. When police arrived at the scene, the body was found mutilated. Experts claim this is a revenge case, with no fingerprints to be found and a pre-written letter by the victim, a confession. Police are currently investigating the case, if you have any information on this please contact the police or call our hotline. Next, we have stock markets-"

"Should we check in with Phil on this? It might help, we're in the 15th district and the murder's in the 16th district. This may be connected," Clint frowns.

"You do that, I'll tap into my sources," Natasha muses. So, if the two were linked, she wanted to get a look at that letter and dig into the victim's life. Perhaps go poke around at the place too, if permitted. 

The mission was very vague due to little to none intel, it was up to her and Clint to figure it out. A relic capable of bringing full scale pandemonium, currently unused as far as she knew, a murder case, personal, the murderer or murderers untraceable, experienced from the pictures she found, expertise in torture probably about 70 to a rough 85% judging from the meticulous methods like drowning, cuts, bonds, skinning, malnutrition, dehydration, beating, a few signs of electrocution judging from the marks and charred skin patches. Forensics team of the local police were still undergoing tests, so no positive results yet. No private investigators have been pulled in, no other organisations nor countries. 

Oh dear, we do have a case alright. Luckily, Natasha loved puzzles.

"Phil's got a copy of the letter, bargained their way for it," Clint says and Natasha hums, moving over the read.

"Dear all, my name is Fredek Kosar, and this is my confession. I am writing this on 15 January 2007. Few have heard of my tale, but those who have have perished. Now, I sit here and write, my entire story. I am not a good man, I will admit. I have done terrible, terrible things, and for that I will have to atone, starting today. There is a myth among us Europeans of an orphanage that took in young girls and made them into little spies and infiltrators, gave them guns instead of teddy bears, told them they were learning how to dance. I was 34 years old, my wife and I had divorced peacefully, I was an operations manager in the company I worked for, a small one who helped run the district and made sure people had jobs. Not much, right?"

"I worked for a governmental propaganda halftime, my other was that I specialised in making weapons, especially knives and scythes. My entire family has always had this talent of craftsmanship. I was then asked to create a scythe for an anonymous dealer. I agreed, the amount of money being offered was more than my entire year's salary, why wouldn't I? I sent a scythe to the address, and then life went back to normal."

"The next year, I got fired. Turns out, someone had framed me in murder. It was all very hush hush, kept buried under layers and layers of secrets, because the murder was so gruesome and horrendous, and it happened to a little boy. He was gutted, impaled and hung. Witnesses claimed to have seen someone like me drive off in a black car, a black car that was found in my garage and had traces of the boy's fingerprints. I denied, of course, because I was no such man, I did not do that."

"My talent in weapons making was also something that made the police suspicious. I was put under trials and lie detector tests and background tests. My relatives were questioned, and they believed the police. I was soon dragged into the heart of corruption of the government, of the people we have trusted for years. I learnt many things. I was unfairly sentenced to jail. For five years, I waited. I hoped someone, my family, my friends, would come get me. None did. I learnt about inmates and their stories. I learnt how one was a drug dealer, but the drugs were used to make medicines, but the police didn't believe he had reformed because he was also charged for drug abuse when he was young. He just wanted to save his poor mother who was dying from a disease."

"I asked him, did you ever get justice? He said no, I have been in here for ten years, and I will be serving out my sentence until I am 65 and old, and I will not get a job. I would much rather die here than face the world again. I have seen the other side of the curtain, and it is not pretty. I agreed silently, but unlike him, I was eager to prove that I was innocent."

"A year later, someone came to see me. He said that he had been hired anonymously to get me out of jail, to free me from my life sentence I was accused of. I told him, what was the use? I would not get another job like that. He told me that he was simply doing his job. Within a month or two, I was freed. The case was buried thereafter, since the police did not want to seem unreliable. They told me to keep my head down and scurry along, as if I was some sewer rat although I was the one who was wronged."

"I became angry, I wanted justice. I searched deep into the murder. I spent millions on finding out the true murderer. I got married. My wife soon found out about my case, and wanted to help. We travelled together, looking for evidence and taking odd jobs. I stumbled upon the anonymous dealer who had bought my scythe. He said he could help me, he was deep underground, he had the resources. He brought me to an orphanage to meet his wife. His wife, who was called 'Madame B' by her students, hired me. I was to make first class knives in exchange for information, she said. I agreed. My wife disagreed, said that something was wrong. We argued. We decided to split so as to not make this our first downfall into many unhappy years."

"I did what the dealer's wife told me to do. I never questioned. I was getting enough money, I was digging deeper into the case. I always wanted to ask, what am I making the knives for? I never did, I assumed it was for her husband to trade. Years passed. I grew older, and yet the murder case was still unsolvable. I procured a single fingerprint that could be a lead, but it matched no results except a young man who had died in a fire somewhere in Russia."

"Then, something bad happened. My ex-wife was killed. Even though we had split, we still remained friends of sorts. I went to visit her. Turns out, she was an ex-student of the Madame B I was working for. I decided to keep this a secret, and I instead carefully dug into the orphanage's background. I found out that one of the girls was the daughter of the young man who died in the fire, the man who's single fingerprint matched my case. I dug deeper again."

"I found out the truth about the orphanage. It was called Red Room, a project by the KGB to collect little girls and train them in espionage, in seduction, in killing and torture. one of the students was the one who framed me for life. I will not say her name, I fear death by her hands as all mortal men should. There is a legend, little know of it, of the Black Widow. She is someone who weaves her web and lures prey in, then before you know it, they're dead. In Soviet times, it was spoken with glory and honour, because the Black Widow would be an ally of Soviets. She emerged from the Red Room, under project Widow. I never directly sought her out, I was not that dumb, after all."

"I found out about what those weapons I made were used for. She and other Widows were using them to torture, to kill, to extract information, to train. I was horrified. I ran. No one ever came for me. I never told the police. I never told anyone, I already had a mistrust of people. I think that is exactly why I was chosen to create weapons for them. I would tell no one, and even if I did, I would be considered a criminal. I lived my life in fear."

"I write this today because I know she is coming for me. I know she will, because her very identity and life is a secret. She is not on any records, she will not have pity. I just hope that my death will reveal these secrets to the world. Fear her, for she does not move mountains, she simply looks at them and they move. To every private intelligence organisation, this is my statement, and I advise you to not chase this lead. I am simply announcing this. If you ever meet her, run, and do not look back. The Black Widow is not forgiving. She has her past, and the past will always come to you one way or another, no matter how much you repress it. Signed, Fredek Kosar."

The rest of the envelope included pictures of the young boy, files of his research, signatures, papers and more.

Natasha frowns.

"I do not know this man, yet he invokes my name," Natasha murmurs as she examines the pictures, grainy and in black and white.

"This isn't a case, Tasha. He's trying to frame you for his murder which you did not do. It means someone is taking revenge on you, and may have teamed up with this guy to do it. We have to contact Phil, tell him to pull us out. This is too dangerous, Tasha," Clint argues.

"I have not heard of a Fredek Kosar, FK, 1993, perhaps. Mission reports have always been top secret," Natasha mutters, ignoring Clint and pacing.

"I can't remember many details of my past, only a brief glimpse, de-programming has scrambled them and I do not particularly wish to re-assemble them. Fredek Kosar, weapons, boy, wife, Madame B, her husband. I had two or three Madames, I think, I need to track down the remaining Widows, they might be dragged in the dirt too with the files I released or destroyed from Red Room. Yes, so little time left. Barton, get your ass in gear, we're going to hunt!"

"Tasha, you're having charges placed against you. S.H.I.E.L.D. is trying to cover up for you without blowing our cover on this mission. Phil has given the orders to stay put at base. Hill's currently leading your case, she's meeting the authorities' representative right now. They've managed to dig up a few files and pieced some stuff together with the help of Fredek's files. You might want to look," Clint offers instead.

"They're assembling a case against me. Why, what prompted this is what I need to know. Who told Kosar I was going to go after him, and who truly murdered him? And why?" Natasha muses.

"No matters," Natasha says as she scrolls through. "We should finish this mission first. That weapon is capable of-" Natasha breaks off.

"Clint, tell me when the relic first appeared," Natasha asks.

"Last year, 22 November 2006, it was meant to be a case for another Omega team but then handed to us because mission objectives and Level clearance increased."

"This is the feed of after I defected. The clean up team. They missed the washing machine," Natasha shows Clint.

"And?"

"In one of my missions, Halle, Germany. I was hired to protect an official and a HYDRA based weapon, developed by Arnim Zola called 'The Web'. I finished it, but stole the weapon. I had it fro a while and when you came, I hid it in the washing machine under a pile of clothes. It was, after all, a small device in the form of a thumb drive, it would have avoided detection. Before I left, I hid it in the flooring under the washing machine. I decided to leave it there because I didn't really trust S.H.I.E.L.D. with it at that time. Someone must have found it."

"You had a weapon capable of bringing down governments, implanting false files, destroying prints and more but you didn't tell anyone?" Clint nearly shrieks.

"I didn't trust you guys at that time. Also, it would be safer there, or so I thought. Besides, that is not the point, the point is, someone with a vendetta against me, capable of assassination, is currently trying to frame me for murder. There will undoubtly be more cases, I have made many enemies and so has Red Room. Our priority is to stop this, and how? By retrieving that thumb drive and not dying."

Clint groans.

"I need a nap, call me when I will actually be useful, don't run off, we're partners in crime now."

"Go take your old man nap, let the master do her work," Natasha grins.

"Update Phil too, don't forget."

"Of course, he's going to have grey hairs from this, but ah well." 


	26. Chapter 26

2007, date redacted

Maria sighs as she just finishes her fifth meeting in a row. God fucking damn it, she's done explaining all the stuff Nat has done, why she did it, pulling up evidence to back her point up, and corralling the governments. Maria is done, and she needs a cocktail, or maybe she should just skip the playing and go straight into the hard stuff.

Natasha and Clint are still stuck in Budapest. Coulson is trying to update them and they're planning what to do. Maria massages her temples. She needed to get some coffee too, after the first frame-Nat-for-murder case, about seven other had popped up in a span of a week. A fucking week. It was a nightmare, but hopefully she could get at least five hours of R&R before she was pulled in for another case.

She had debated calling the two, but refrained from doing so. She didn't need anymore hackers into her system. That would be a nightmare, like Agent Harris, 2005. That major security breach had been wild. 

Maria gets a drink before heading to her quarters to get some well deserved rest.

2007, date redacted

"Deputy Hill, alert, alert, requesting immediate presence," the intercom announces as Maria jolts awake.

"Shit, what now?" Maria mumbles as she grabs her field suit and immediately dresses and checks for any notifications.

"Agent Barton, Agent Romanoff and Agent Coulson, requesting immediate extraction for Mission 428-Maroon, Level 6 team required for extraction and mission details," the AI helpfully announces.

"Got it, brief me on mission specifics and what's happening," Maria demands as she grabs her phone and lets the AI inform her.

"Prepare med bay, send out extraction team Ace, now!" Maria orders as she gets to the Commanding deck of the Helicarrier. Agents are up and about, tech teams patching STRIKE Team Delta in. 

"Coulson, status," Maria says as she draws up the layout and maps of Budapest and the city they were currently in. 

"Commander, the feed is cut off. They've switched their comms off," one of the agents yells.

Okay, Hill. 

Barton was currently sporting a sprained wrist, from the way he was carefully moving it and also using a gun to fire back shots at the pursuer, a woman dressed in tac gear and a field suit. She was wearing a mask and had flaming red hair like Nat. Looks like we found our framer.

Romanoff was probably relatively uninjured, she still moved as fluidly and gracefully as ever, face screwed up in concentration from dodging the bullets while running and leaping off cars and random buildings. 

"Sniper, following Romanoff, check security feed, take out target!" Maria yells.

Coulson was wildly driving a car, one of the tires was suddenly shot out and Coulson was seen running out from the car and following the two.

Another two, females, had joined the chase.

"Identify the targets, search for their history and identifications!" Maria commands as she sends coordinates to the extraction team.

One of the females manage to throw a bunch of grenades at them as they dodge and weave throw a petrol station.

Shit.

There's smoke, and Maria's already calculating the three escape routes they could take if they were caught in the blast.

"Extraction team."

"ETA ten minutes," the agent replies.

Maria focuses on the smoke. Are they alive?

There's a flicker of flame as the place starts burning. Oh god. 

Then three sooty figures appear in another alley way feed. Good. 

Oh my god Natasha, Maria thinks as she watches her swing from building to building, probably trying to distract the sniper from Barton and Coulson as they run and three others pursue them.

"Sniper located."

"Extraction team?"

"We're here, landing now. Targets?"

"Four, three after Coulson and Barton, sniper on roof of coordinates under G17 on locater."

"Got it."

Maria can only watch as the extraction team, Clint, Nat and Phil fight for their lives. 

Maria's eyes are following Natasha's every movement. Oh gods, if she loses another fucking person she's going to riot.

Clint and Phil have split up, one target going after each and the third one going after Natasha now.

The sniper has run out of bullets and is now engaging in the chase too.

Shit, one of them got Clint. They were now fighting, Clint delivering a few blows as the female staggers slightly but returns the punches and kicks and manages to get a good one to Clint's torso.

The extraction team are now herding the two after Phil and Clint together.

Natasha. 

Natasha had jumped off the roof of some five storey building and was now running towards the direction of the extraction point and she turned on her comm, thankfully not damaged.

"Romanoff, stay online," Maria barks as she assesses the situation again.

"Got it, need a little help here," Natasha yells as she slides under a barrier and continues to run.

"Extraction point for you is about four minutes away if you continue running at that speed, first pursuer on your five o clock, other at eight o clock."

Dont' die don't die don't die, Maria silently pleads as she watches Clint get knocked down by the female, forehead bleeding, Natasha tossing random things into the pursuers' way and Coulson weaving between alley ways.

The pursuer of Phil is shot by a member of the extraction team and Phil manages to get onto the ladder for the helicopter.

One down, two to go.

Natasha is now engaged in a gun fight between her and the pursuers. 

No wait, one pursuer.

"Romanoff, three o clock!" Maria shouts into the comm as a figure comes at her stealthily.

Natasha whips around, gun in left hand as she engages in combat with the person. It's swift, brutal, bloody. Natasha stabs the person's thigh, the person delivers a hook to Natasha's jaw that has got to hurt, all the while dodging bullets from the other pursuer.

"Extraction team, assistance down lane 26," Maria says.

Natasha cries out as a bullet embeds itself into her hamstring. 

Oh my god.

The pursuer kicks out wildly and manages to kick Natasha in the knee.

Natasha fires her Widow's bite and the person gasps as she goes down.

Thank god for those things.

Clint, meanwhile, had been thrown against a wall. The extraction team had reached him and they were now engaging in combat with the person as another two helped Clint up.

Natasha was slowing down and tired, Maria could tell. The second pursuer had run out of bullets and was now chasing her again.

"Romanoff, on your next turn, take a left, then straight, then left again, the extraction team is dealing with Barton and the other target there," Maria says as she quickly scrolls through the map.

Come on come on Nat, Maria prays as she watches Natasha limp-run through the pain and head for the extraction team.

The pursuer zigzags easily through buildings.

Maria observes carefully.

"Scratch that, Romanoff, head to the building on your right, head for the fire escape and distract, do not engage, two extraction team members heading your way."

"Maria," Natasha grits out.

"The target has accquired and flamethrower," Natasha pants as her leg nearly buckles and Maria swears.

"Extraction team, target after Romanoff has a flamethrower, keep your distance," Maria warns.

Maria anxiously watches as Natasha runs for her life, face stained with ash and blood trailing after her path. She's losing blood rapidly, tearing the wound to run, she's going to need medical attention within the next ten minutes or she may not make it.

This op had well and truly gone FUBAR.

Civilians screaming in terror as Natasha yelled at them to move, as the extraction team didn't dare to use guns to bring the target down for fear of shooting a civilian or Natasha.

Maria scans the maps again. 

Natasha enters the building, an office and dashes through the building, ignoring the screams and heading for the exit at the other end of the building.

Natasha leaps through the open window and scales down the building.

"Cut through the street, sharp turn to the left and you'll be back on the way to extraction point. The helicopter's coming towards you."

Maria doesn't know how Natasha did it, but she manages to ignore the pain and climb up the ladder.

"Medical, get ready. Gunshot treatment, suspect fracture, sprain, minor burns, suspect concussion" Maria shouts as she goes to the tech teams to check on the identification processes.

In about fifteen minutes, the extraction team lands with STRIKE Team Delta.

Clint's on a stretcher and is being wheeled away for scans, Natasha's closed off and hissing, Phil's limping.

"Agent Davis, report," Maria orders as the leader of the extraction team dutifully salutes Maria and begins.

"Two of our agents are injured, only minor injuries. Target 1 and 3 have escaped, bringing target 2 along. Target 4 is subdued, waiting for interrogation in the holding cell."

"Good work, send in you and your teams' reports to my office, you have twelve hours."

Agent Davis nods and Maria turns to go to medical bay.

2007, date redacted

Maria enters to see a hissing and spitting Natasha twisting away from the doctors.

"She's not letting us see her wounds or undress her, Commander Hill," one nurse says.

"I can take care of this, just give me-"

"Level 5 agents and below, clear out," Maria commands as most of the doctors and nurses file out, leaving only two behind.

"Romanoff," Maria greets.

"Hill. Can you bring me a bottle of vodka, I need to clean the wound and bring me something to get the bullet out, it's pretty deeply lodged inside," Natasha answers.

"Natasha," Maria sighs.

"Maria," Natasha shoots back.

They lock eyes and engage in a silent battle of will.

Surprisingly, Natasha breaks away first.

"Can you excuse us for a while?" Maria asks the doctors as they respectfully nod and leave, although disgruntled at having their work disrupted.

"Natasha, let me help you," Maria requests.

"I can deal with this myself Maria, I've got worse," Natasha chuckles, but winces slightly.

Maria's eyes track the movment. Probably bruised ribs, that knee must be throbbing, maybe sprained neck from the way she was moving. Great additions to a bullet wound.

"Natasha Romanoff, you are bleeding out on the damn bed, you probably have about ten other injuries, you will let me take care of you GSW or I am going to pull rank here, whether you like it or not. You nearly died, Natasha. I had to watch you, Phil and heck even Clint run for your lives. If we got through all that for you to die because of losing blood I am going to slap you in the afterlife," Maria growls.

Natasha glares at her.

Maria glares right back.

"Fine," Natasha begrudgingly agrees, lying down on the bed again.

"Thank you, can you remove your suit, I need to attend to your wound first, I know you have faster healing and all that but I need to remove the bullet before your skin rebuilds over it," Maria asks.

Natasha unzips her suit and Maria focuses on her thigh as Natasha grunts and flips around on her front to let Maria look.

The next twenty minutes is Maria working in silence. She had asked Natasha if she wanted any drugs or painkillers, and made Natasha swallow one or two when she was halfway through and Natasha was swearing very creatively in Russian under her breath.

Maria extracts the bullet and cleans the wound. She examines it, then stitches the wound shut. Natasha probably doesn't need a blood transfusion, which was good. Maria didn't need to hassle for Natasha to let the medical doctors do their job. 

Natasha hated showing weakness, Maria knew. She had a plain distrust of medical too. Maria usually let it slide when she heard of it, but after that mission, there was no way Maria was going to let Natasha die because she was a stubborn ass.

"I can hear you thinking, Maria," Natasha mumbles, eyelids fluttering in an attempt to stay awake.

"Hey hey, please don't fall asleep. We need to check you for a concussion, I know Clint's definitely got one, he was knocked out pretty hard when he got thrown into a wall."

"Birdboy got thrown into a wall?" Natasha snickers softly as she tenses imperceptibly at Maria's light poke at the flesh around the finally sewn shut wound.

"Yeah, it would have been glorious, except it was pretty hard and I was trying to get the three of you out there alive. When you three are healed we have to run through a debrief," Maria says, entering Commander Hill mode as she motioned for Natasha to flip over to check her ribs.

"I'm fine, just sore everywhere. My knee is twinging a bit, but its fine," Natasha admits as Maria hums and finishes her check up.

"Well, you have to stay in medical for a few days for observation, don't injure anyone," Maria says.

"And here I thought you were going to bring me to my quarters and rescue me from the horrors of medical," Natasha sighs dramatically.

"Nuh uh, nice try Nat. Not falling for that, I'm not your girlfriend who you can coerce with your smirks or pouts," Maria laughs as Natasha, of course, pouts.

"Mean, but you're my friend," Natasha stresses on the last word, turning pleading eyes to Maria.

Well, fuck, Maria thinks as she sees Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, international ex-KGB assassin, turn puppy dog eyes on her.

"You're lucky you're cute," Maria grumbles.

Natasha beams. Maria wonders if she may have been on too much drugs or painkillers.

"You think I'm cute, Commander?' Natasha purrs, sitting up and leaning the back of her head on her torso and tilting her head to look up at Maria.

Maria swallows down her gulp. Fuck it, she's Maria Hill, she cannot, will not lose control.

"Or do you think I'm pretty," Natasha teases as she throws Maria a smirk and pulls Maria down onto the bed.

"I think you're pretty annoying, that's what," Maria dryly says as she carefully dislodges Natasha's hand from her field suit.

Natasha's high, very high. Did they get her on morphine on the way here?

Natasha loops her arms around Maria's waist and Maria's brain short circuits.

Fuck being a lesbian, fuck Natasha Romanoff, goddamn it.

Natasha hums as she removes Maria's hair tie and Maria just stares and stares at the intoxicating redhead as she runs her fingers through her hair.

"You're pretty too, Maria," Natasha flirts as she winks and Maria is broken from her trance.

"Nat," she says stiffly.

"Hmm? I'm just stating facts, Masha," Natasha whispers into her ear and Maria's stomach just does backflips.

"Nat, please," Maria pleads. Natasha cannot do this to her, she absolutely cannot. Maria's being crushed by her flirting. Ever since the New Year, Maria went to get drunk with Sharon as Sharon let her cry onto her shoulder, patting her in comfort, then Maria drowns herself in work. It was a success for some time, since Nat and Clint were also sent off on a mission, but its all crashing down on her again.

Natasha, who was her friend, her agent, her secret love, Maria realises, not crush, love.

"You think I'm pretty?" Maria murmurs as Natasha hums in agreement.

"Very. I think I'm going to regret this when the drugs wear off," Natasha says as her eyes slide over Maria's form and Maria watches her eyes dilate.

"As much as I appreciate your ogling, I'm going to be stopping you right there. You need to trust me, Nat. I can't just let you run off and potentially injure yourself further, let me help you," Maria murmurs.

"I can do this myself," Natasha argues, all trace of playfulness disappearing.

"Natasha, please. You're not alone in this world, Nat," Maria replies.

Natasha's mask snaps over so fast Maria couldn't even catch the moment.

"I can still take care of myself, Hill. I'm slightly inconvenienced, not an invalid," Natasha snaps.

"I know that you're capable of many things, Romanoff, I wrote half your dossier and spent more than a year chasing you. You keep embracing your lone wolf act, for what? Even the most intricate puzzle has its weaknesses, Natasha. You let it become your strength, not hide it and fear and push everyone away. I've seen enough people in my life leave or die, you saw it too. I watched my team fucking get blown to pieces in front of my eyes, Natasha. It's part of the job description, but I am done simply watching. And then today, I watched you nearly die too. Do you think I'm trying to make your life difficult? I'm trying to save your life and its none of my business, but I care for you, Natasha fucking Romanoff. You're my agent, you're my responsibility, you're my friend, and I love you, okay?"

Maria inhales sharply. Well, her rant was going very off track now. Great job, Maria.

Natasha frowns suspiciously.

"Look, all I'm trying to say is-"

"Huh, you love me?" Natasha interrupts.

Maria's face heats up.

"Masha, look at me," Natasha demands.

"I'm not going to force you into anything, Nat. I'm tired of these games, I'm tired of running," Maria admits as she looks into Natasha's green irises, clearer than ever.

"I'm sorry Masha," Natasha whispers as she presses her forehead against Maria's.

"It's okay," Maria replies.

"I'm scared. All I touch ends up destroyed. I had a husband once. He was not meant to be. Red Room made me kill him. Madame always said love was for children. The mission, its the leftovers of Red Room fighting for survival. Other Widows, they're framing me for murder, so that their slates will be clean. Fewer enemies. I cannot let you into the line of fire, Mia. Clint and Phil, look what happened? This is just a taste, Maria. I want you, but I cannot have you."

"I'm not exactly a helpless damsel, Nat, I didn't become Deputy Director from sitting on my ass all day."

"You want to protect me, I will do the same for you. You know, after Disneyland, I visited my father. Not biological one, but the AI Red Room created to train us. He was strict, harsh, but at the end of the day, he was just a robot, you know? He was nice. When I think of him, there is this tingly feeling in me. I cannot remember why. He asked me if I had ever loved someone so much it hurts, loved someone so much I wanted to engrave her name into my heart like it was a journal of your thousands and thousands of pages worth of memories together, yet not be able to express how much I wanted and loved and truly, truly, needed my other. I said no, I had never. You deserve so much more than me, Maria. We're the impossible tale. You're the moon and I'm the sun, darling. We may want, but never meet. And my ledger is dripping in red, you don't need someone like me."

"But what if I want you?" Maria breathes out.

"We've always been masters of defying the impossible and making it possible. You've come so far, Nat. When I first say you, when you looked at me, you bore the weight of the world. You're just a young woman, Nat. You're like all of us. You were tired, you were carrying a weight most people would be crushed under. But you were strong. I saw the light in you, Natasha. I didn't fall in love with you right on the spot, but I see you. And I got you. You act like you don't care, but I see how you always hold back in the gym to not hurt anyone, I see how you try to fit in with everyone, I see how hard you work. I see you laughing because Clint got a temporary tattoo of your insignia at Disneyland. I saw you nearly cry when Clint bought you that stupid headband. I saw Natasha Romanoff smiling and laughing and forcing me to stay warm. I see you, every inch of you, and there is not one I hate, Nat."

Natasha smiles gently and closes her eyes.

"Really?"

"Mm hmm. I'm yours, Nat. Yours forever. I fell in love with you and I don't think I can climb out," Maria confesses shakily and Natasha settles her arms around Maria's neck and shoulders.

"I think I might be willing to try this out with you," Natasha admits and smiles softly.

Maria huffs out a breath.

They both move for each other at the same time. They meet halfway, in perfect tandem, as they always had. 

It's soft, and all Maria registers is how soft and plush Nat's lips feel. She tastes salty tears and gently wipes them away from Natasha's face.

They break apart and stare at each other.

"Thank god you felt the same, I was honestly crushed when you told me you wanted to stay friends on New Year's eve," Natasha confesses and sniffles slightly.

"Honestly I was just hoping I didn't push you away and was kind of relieved you showed up. I thought the fact that we were still friends was a miracle."

"I was going to bury this all away for the year, but its back and raging again, I guess. I was kind of panicking the whole time. You were acting cute and Masha-like. When you propper your legs on me I thought I was going to melt in a puddle of foolish love right there," Natasha says.

Maria laughs.

"Come on, I'll be nice to you, I don't bite unless you want me to. Shall we go to my quarters? No offence, but you look terrible and you could use a bath," Maria suggests.

Natasha seems to consider this.

"Only if you hop in with me. And no medical," Natasha offers.

"You have to let me check your wounds and redress them," Maria compromises.

"Deal, carry me, I feel like I'm going to fall on my ass if I stand," Natasha admits.

Maria grins.


	27. Chapter 27

2007, date redacted

"Nat? I'm coming in," Maria says as she opens the bathroom door, carrying a shirt and some boxer shorts with her.

Natasha was already soaking in the bathtub, opening an eye and smiling lazily as she gestured for Maria.

"I should use your shower more often, you have so many privileges," Natasha sighs as she stretches out across the tub.

Maria respectfully looks away from Natasha. Boundaries, they'd have to set boundaries.

Natasha frowns slightly.

"You can look at me, Masha, nothing we've never seen before."

"Want me to help you wash? You look like you're going to sag into there and never appear again," Maria diverts.

Natasha gives a quiet hum as Maria takes off her field suit, leaving on her tank top and shorts and gets the shampoo.

They sit in a comfortable, healing silence as Maria gently soaps Natasha's hair, scratching her scalp lightly and causing Natasha to sigh, massaging Natasha's head and neck as Maria works out the knots of tension.

Maria has always valued silence, silence made people talk, silence made people nervous. It was nice to be with someone who too, thrived in the shadows away from loud bickering and attention.

They could debrief later. Paperwork could be done later, right now, Natasha needed her. And she needed Natasha too. To feel her, to know that she was alive and here and it wasn't just a dream.

So much to do, so little time.

"I can practically hear you thinking, Masha," Natasha says.

"Nothing. Sit up, I need to wash the soap off," Maria replies as Natasha obeys silently, sitting up quietly like a water wraith.

Maria turns on the shower spray and guides it to Natasha's hair, letting the water run down her flaming red hair.

"Conditioner?"

"Not today, why don't you join me, Commander," Natasha suggests instead.

Maria agrees and begins to strip. 

Maria turns around, naked, and hears Natasha's breath hitch.

"The scars aren't pretty, yeah," Maria dryly says as she slides into the tub with her, their legs intertwining.

"Turn around," Natasha asks softly.

Maria shifts and settles between Natasha's legs.

"Where'd you get them?" Natasha asks, tracing the lines of brutal scarring and lines of ink covering the more hidden ones.

Maria sighs.

"This," Maria begins, pointing at one branded near her heart," was from dear old dad. Right before my 13th birthday, the day my mother died, he branded me. Said I was worthless, belonged to him and killed my mother. Told me that I would bear the mark of my sin until the day I died."

"This one here," Maria continues, pointing at the mesh of scars near her abdomen," was from the Army. Bomb detonated near me and my team, I caught some of the heat and flame. Got burnt pretty badly, most of it is gone but this remained."

"These," Maria gestures at the two short gashes down her shoulder blades on her back," was from lashings. I got captured by an enemy base once. One of them was particularly creative with punishments. I was beaten, stripped, and whipped. It was a bloody mess. The next time I got captured, it was in S.H.I.E.L.D., the enemies wanted information, wanted to show S.H.I.E.L.D. that S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't going to be able to protect everyone in the world. They saw my wounds, still slightly fresh. They reopened them, whipped me again, rubbed salt into them and god knows what else to keep them open. They never really healed properly, the medical team couldn't do anything but prevent it from reopening. The flesh never healed properly."

Natasha scowls and wraps her arms around Maria's waist, pulling her in.

"I'm sorry," Natasha offers.

"It's fine, it's in the past. We've all got out scars, whether visible or invisible."

Natasha strokes her wrists unconsciously.

"I used to collect them. They reminded me of who I was, what I have become, and my mission. It was grounding, kept me going, no matter how sadistic and psychopathic that sounds. It was the only thing that belonged to me. I think Madame B figured it out and I was then enhanced with a Soviet version of the super soldier serum. The serum healed all my scars. I went on more missions, got more. They all healed."

Natasha lifts her wrists from the water.

"See these? It's pale, its smooth and perfect. I used to have scars and bruises there everyday since I was 5. They took that too. Red Room always handcuffed their students to the bed posts. It kept girls from killing each other and escaping. Also kept them from defending themselves effectively. I never slept for more than an hour at a time, we all just napped for ten minutes, then woke up, meditated, napped and repeated until curfew was lifted. No one dared to, no matter how tired they were. Besides, the real demons were in our heads," Natasha admits.

"What a pair we are," Maria jokes, lifting the tension slightly.

"Yeah, we do fit very well with each other, don't we?"

"It's like a part of me is screaming for me to touch you all the time, like I'm not whole without you," Maria confesses, Natasha's grip around her tightening.

"I think I've fallen pretty hard for you, Maria Hill."

"I'll catch you," Maria promises.

"We should get out of the bath before we catch a cold," Natasha replies.

"Let me get the towels, sit down Natasha or so help me I will ban you from the gym for a week so you don't tear your stitches," Maria orders.

"Aye aye Commander Hill," Natasha mock salutes as Maria scowls slightly and splashes water at her, making Natasha splutter.

"Jackass," Maria teases as she helps Natasha out of the tub and onto a plastic chair to dry her off.

"Asshole," Natasha retorts but stays still.

Maria helps Natasha dress, then quickly dries herself off and shoves on some clothes.

"You know, you still haven't told me about what the tattoo says. Never imagined you to be one for tattoos," Natasha comments idlely.

Maria rolls her eyes.

"It's a kind of code between me and my team," Maria explains, and doesn't miss the way Natasha stiffens slightly.

"Quaerimus perditos volunt anhelare," Maria says as Natasha frowns and tries to decode it slowly. Latin has never been one of her best languages, but she tries. (I google translated this don't @ me)

"It means the lost seek, want and yearn," Maria explains.

"Sounds nice, care to share?" Natasha carefully asks. For anyone out from the Army, teammates lost and their stories have always been a touchy subject, Natasha knew.

"It reminds us to always find purpose to what we do. Our team leader, Matthew Johns, we call him Matt, serves the army because he lost his family in war. The technician, Roberto Collins, he's half Italian, serves because his grandpa did and he wanted to carry on his legacy. The emergency medical, Hanna Addams, she has always wanted to save lives, but she also wanted action, so she joined. The shadow duo, we called Nikita and Carl, they just wanted to help out, they wanted America to not fall into ruin, to collapse from war. And as for me, I joined to escape my father. How could I compare with them? I was just running, again and again and again. I told Matt that. He told me, well, Hill, you damn well make sure you're at least running in the right direction. My teammates were never meant to die, I was never meant to outlive them, to watch their families get handed flags as I walked alone back to the place I was staying, with no one to grieve with me over the people I was supposed to protect, to watch over."

"A few weeks before they died, we went to get matching tattoos. Sounds stupid and sentimental, but I agreed, because they were the only ones I had, I wanted to remember them by something at least, not be medals or whatever. We settled on a team slogan kind of thing. I think what really made me march on after their deaths was seeing all their tattoos unharmed by the explosions, even if the rest of them were mangled and bloody."

"Thank you for sharing," Natasha says and intertwines her fingers with Maria's as they lay together on the couch.

"You make it easy to."

"I'm sorry I didn't save you and your team. I watched you grieve for your teammates yet soldier on. You were strong, I knew. You would survive. I never had a team, I know of what having teams mean and should be, but never really felt it. I think you made Natalia second guess herself, even if for a moment, but the paper heart was folded. Even unfolded, there's still a mark."

"Listen, its not your fault. Lets just sleep this off and get up tomorrow for debrief, okay Nat? You look tired, the drugs have worn off some time ago."

Natasha feels her eyelids slip at Maria's soothing voice.

"You're hypnotising me to fall asleep or something," Natasha sleepily mumbles.

"Hmm, or its just because you are tired and need sleep," Maria retorts.

"Shut up and carry me Masha, can we you know, hug?"

"You mean cuddle?" Maria replies, slightly amused.

"Yeah, that."

"Okay." 


	28. Chapter 28

2007, date redacted

Alexandra binds the bandage tighter and hisses slightly.

She's hiding with the other Widows now. There's Aliya, Rieka Widow or Wolf Widow, Tatiana, Steel Widow, and Viktoria, Gaia Widow. Alexandra honestly thought Black Widow did sound better, shame that they were raised as copies of the Black Widow.

This is about survival, nothing more than that. None of them had anything against Natalia, even if they did they wouldn't remember. Red Room was very thorough, there were safety precautions, always. Hers must have been a memory wiping, or scrambling at least. Alexandra had woken up, disorientated, under a tree, a few miles away from the Red Room facility burnt to cinders. Alexandra had moved on and never looked back. 

Alexandra was the youngest of the batch of 1984, that was what she knew. The earliest thing she could remember was a beach, then everything was fuzzy after that. Maybe there was a dog, she heard barking. Something had happened. She didn't know what. But it no longer mattered. 

Her knife wound was superficial, but her body still shook slightly from the Widow's Bites. Natalia had always been one handed the special toys, because she never got killed or injured figuring out how to use them. A perverse game.

Kill or be killed. Alexandra knew how to play the game, alright.

"We rest first, then we move. We need to know what S.H.I.E.L.D. is going to do next. Tanya has been captured, we must not get ourselves killed. Tanya might or might not speak, we do not know. Stay calm, we'll meet again in two days for our next step," Aliya says, or commands.

"See you soon," Vika replies and slips off into the night.

"Be safe," Alexandra nods and follows suit, disappearing into the night.

She had appearances to keep. She told her ballet company she had broken her leg and needed a month or two off. She had forged all the medical reports too, making sure to link them to a doctor she had bribed and threatened. 

She still called the friends she made there every few days. She could not completely cut herself off, that would be plain idiotic.

Alexandra begins her journey back to her safehouse.

2007, date redacted

Natasha lounges in Maria's quarters as she watches her make phone calls. Natasha's filling out her own paperwork, she's been debriefed by Sitwell, taking over for Coulson, still recovering in medical, along with Clint who was still out. Nothing major, just tired and on medication.

Widows, coming together against her. Natasha hoped she had it in her to take them down. 

She's a survivor and she has S.H.I.E.L.D.

She'll outlast them in their game. 

The bluest flames are the brightest, Natasha idly muses as she takes in Maria's blue, sparkling eyes. Natasha is a weapon, alright, but she'll only let herself be wielded by Maria. 

-

short filler because im not motivated i need to do work sorry 


	29. Chapter 29

2007, date redacted

Natasha is sent back to Budapest. Again. She would remain there until further notice, with Sitwell as her handler. 

Natasha didn't trust Sitwell, something about him didn't add up with him. But then again, Natasha didn't trust many.

She and Maria should probably have talked things out before she left, yeah, but they had to remain wholly un-compromised for this entire set-up to work. S.H.I.E.L.D. had located a list of possible suspects and Natasha would be weeding them out. The backup team was STRIKE Team Alpha, within range at all times. Good to know that Melinda May would be here, she was a good and reliable agent. 

Natasha stares at the blurred pictures of the ten suspects. All untraceable with alibis, but suspicious nonetheless. 

Sometimes she wondered what she would be like if she were not captured by Red Room. Perhaps she would be a Bolshoi ballerina, like one of the suspects? Maybe grow up training in the Vaganova Academy? Would she become a real princess? Her parents did choose to not take up the Romanova royal bloodline though. It was probably why she grew up in a small town away from prying eyes. Or at least that's what she remembers. Shattered memories, like pieces of glass, stained in red, red, red. 

Bloody red, broken bones, tangled web, Natasha ponders as she idly twirls her pen.

No, it would not do. Widows are smarter than anyone else. She'd need something better than the suit she wore, she didn't need skin tight suits right now, against the others, she'd need more protection. She may be the only one with the serum, or the only one to survive anyways, but she could not take down twenty eight Widows on her own. 28 Widows out in the world, how many of them were hunting her? 

She is feels empty again, everything Maria managed to dredge up gone. Her ears ring slightly and her head feels blissfully blank, awareness sharpened and all other thoughts except the present and survive pushed back, repressed. She has a mission, and she has never failed a mission before. 

S.H.I.E.L.D. is carefully reconstructing all that is known about the suspects. 

There were hundreds of girls around the world who were chosen for the Black Widow program, rarely any succeeded. Some branched out into other departments, became agent of Red Room, not Widows. Natasha's heard of Leviathan before, she'll need to look into that soon. Time is of the essence here. She is made of marble, she will not break, she will not yield, she will not falter.

On nights like this one she cuffs herself to the bed and dreams of checkered floor, pointe shoes tapping against it, squeaky wheels, gun shots being fired and phantom applause.

2007, date redacted

Hacking, unlike what spy movies portray, is not really interesting at all. Its figuring out which codes and methods to use to figure out that one combination to unlock the locks.

Natasha reads the files pieced together by Maria and the forensics team. God bless Maria, really, she made life so much easier by taking that extra step to help connect the dots instead of just dumping her with information like what other agents would usually do and expect her to figure it all out.

First target was Lyudmila. 20 year old, living in Yegoryevsk, Russia. Natasha skims through her report. Maria's already rejected this one, apparently the other information corroborated with her case.

Second, Alexandra. 26 year old, living in Moscow, Russia. Bolshoi ballerina. It was currently off season so she wasn't on tour. Recent hacking into the office shows that Alexandra was healing from a broken ankle, would be back in about a month or so as it wasn't too serious but not a minor injury too. She was worth looking into, Natasha supposed.

Third, Dmitria. 24 year old, living in Dublin, Ireland, native Russian and has a Spain ancestry. Working as a team manager in some tech company. Didn't look like much, but you never know. Had some sketchy activity that didn't match the records on systems before.

Fourth, Oksana, 32 year old living in London, England, native Russian, worked as a news reporter. Huh, this one was definitely out of the question, no Widow would become a news reporter, the media agency provided no stable hierarchy in case of discovery.

Natasha spends the day viewing all possible candidates and waiting for the signal.

It never came, and Natasha doesn't know if that's a blessing or a curse.

Natasha was never patient, she always needed something to do, to stimulate her brain.

Natasha huffs and goes through her breathing exercises once again.


	30. Chapter 30

2007, date redacted

Alexandra goes back to her safe house, or apartment. No home, never home. Those with the stamp of the Red Room and the rodina never had homes. Whatever they touched crumbled to ashes. She is about as delicate as a hurricane of glass and death and blood.

Alexandra combs out her long blond hair, hanging down to her hips, caked with blood that could be easily mistaked for dirt and disappeared when she manipulated her hair into a bun.

Alexandra debates. She could run and sell the information to bidders at high prices, put a larger bounty on the two's heads. The Steel Widow might not hold, but she had triggers. She could easily activate them before S.H.I.E.L.D. would be able to wipe them away and de-program her. Perhaps re-program her? Use her as a weapon against the other Widows and the world they thought they had control over?

She did not know, but all she knew was survival, lone wolves howling at the moon in the dark abyss of night, and the bone cold feeling of a Russian winter settling in her soul.

Alexandra shakes out the thoughts from her head and the tangles in her hair. No emotion, use it when necessary, store it away, take 4 bars to compose yourself. Give them a dance, a performance worthy of the Bolshoi. 

Alexandra's head sharply turns at the notification on her phone, always on silent mode unless she programmed it otherwise. And when she did, it meant her cover was being dug into.

S.H.I.E.L.D., Alexandra muses as she picks it up and checks the security breaches. She's never been too good with implanting false trails digitally, but she was good enough to throw S.H.I.E.L.D. off her scent. Even if it meant sacrificing others, she would do it in a heartbeat and not look back. 

Alexandra had an advantage here, she was the one who knew all the players of the game. But she needed to see the endgame here, she could not, would not, allow herself to fail. Even death would be preferrable. Death, like Odette in the famous Swan Lake. 

Alexandra Levedeva. Swan Widow. When Madame first gave her the name, she nearly, oh so nearly, broke her emotionless facade. Swans, birds, animals. Swans were weak, swans were oh so fascinating but breakable. Aliya, Rieka Widow, is a wolf. She seems like one too, with her deep, brown eyes and silence and occasional blinking. Tanya is steel, unbending, unbreaking. Melted, forged in fire, remade to another. Vika, skinny like a stick but grounded. Incredibly grounded. Always keeping to herself, never losing herself. 

But swan she was. Beautiful, untouchable, perfection. Her wings were always kept tightly around her, like another shield of protection, until she needed to fly. Her first time flying had been a disaster, so had the next, and the next. But swans were meant to fly. 

Unfold your wings, Alexandra. Show them what you can do, show them all you are, show them, and shut them up, Madame used to say when she was a young, young child, so breakable like porcelain, with Madame's cold thin fingers pressing into her shoulders as a warning and comfort.

It had haunted her, like a chilling tune she could never get out of her mind, till this day. The few things and memories, scattered and scarred, that had followed her, even with the wiping triggers. It was ingrained in her. Sometimes she felt this pang on her back, like when she would be chained down to the earth and the gates because of a failed mission. Swans who cannot fly, who have broken wings, do not deserve to wander aimlessly around the world, looking up at the sky in hopes of soaring again. They must learn through loss, pain and bloodshed, Alexandra.

Her back had hurt to let her wings sprout. So no, she was not going to give up this newfound freedom for anything in the world. Love is for children, she is no child, no youngling, so easily moldable yet breakable. Only the weak break, the strong adapt and let themselves change accordingly. Strong did not necessarily mean unbreakable, sometimes it meant the most flexible. 

Madame B had found that in her, which was why she often was chained to reality. Rarely let out on missions unless it was to clean up messes, when it was already going to hell. Either her or Black Widow, they were the two who have very much seen the harshest of the cold of winters. They were the most flexible, adaptable, and hence unbreakable. Galina, another, had died in combat. She had potential, but did not live up to expectations. She was killed, and it did not incur anything in Alexandra except a reminder of how pitifully easily she could to, be on the other end of a gun.

Lessons were always valuable, always something, a hidden or not so hidden message Madame was making, or perhaps both.

Alexandra was born to fly high, touch the clouds and bathe in the light. She has been chained, whipped, broken, remade, reshaped. She has been raped, defiled, tortured and more. But above all, she is a survivor. Nothing personal. 

Send a prayer to the ones above, because lord help them when she came. She has the wings of the devil himself, dripping in blood, black feathers shining and glistening and rustling. Hands stained in the ones of those in her way, crowned with their souls, burning, living, blossoming in it. She will not crawl, she will not bow, she will not yield to anything but her crown and her right. 

Time to see if S.H.I.E.L.D. could play her game, and if Natalia would strike with her deadly venom before the swan took off for the skies.


End file.
